A Different Side
by thunderous
Summary: What does the world of magic look like from a Pureblood's perspective? This story is JKR's version, but from Draco's point of view. Learn more about his family life, what goes on in the Slytherin Common room, and how Draco fell in love with Harry Potter
1. Chapter 1

I am not dead. Not at all. I gave someone my profile info a few years ago, and they changed the stuff to say I was. Nasty prank, really. And so, I let fanfiction go. I was tired of writing, I was losing inspiration, I was losing free time. And it was fine. Until recently. I felt an itch to try to try to finish this (somewhat pathetic) story. I'm a few years older. And a few years more mature. So we'll see how it goes. Just remember, despite what some former friend said, I am not dead.

Oh, and I don't own any of this stuff. That's important too. Don't sue me.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had been having a pretty good day. His parents had outdone themselves in purchasing his supplies for school, he had enjoyed a day of pampering in Diagon Alley (his mother, realizing her baby was off to Hogwarts in mere weeks had spared no expense on his behalf), and now, Draco was getting fitted for school robes. The only thing to mar this otherwise perfect day was his father's refusal to buy Draco a racing broom—any racing broom. His father thought it better to wait until Draco was a second year, and allowed a broomstick, before he purchased a broom. That way, Draco would have the most recent model, and wouldn't have to worry about riding an outdated broom.

Draco was contemplating the wisdom of his father's decision when a bell tinkled, signaling a new customer for Madame Malkin. Draco twisted to eye the newcomer and was immediately drawn to the sight of a boy with untidy black hair and brilliant green eyes. For some reason, this boy was alone and not with parents. The boy looked as though he wanted a companion, someone to keep him company while shopping for robes. Draco normally would have dismissed such sentiments as "babyish" but couldn't bring himself to do so now. For some reason, Draco felt a pull to ease the stranger's discomfort, and decided to speak to the raven-haired boy.

But what to say? If this boy were muggle-born, he would have an appointed companion to guide him in his first adventure into Diagon Alley. Because the boy was alone, Draco assumed that, like his own parents, this boy's mother and father were off purchasing the boring school supplies—quills, ink, parchment and the like. Madam Malkin stood the boy on a footstool and began to pin up his robes. Draco decided to speak, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "Hello," he said, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said the stranger.

What kind of a response was that? Draco thought frantically, trying to figure out an appropriate topic that would encourage this strange boy to speak. Aha! In Draco's experience, not a boy existed who could resist the urge to talk about Quidditch! He decided to start with an explanation about where his parents were, so the boy would feel that Draco was an equal, because both of their parent's were off shopping. "My father's next boor buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," he said, then added "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

The boy across from Draco scrunched up his face in an unconscious gesture that to Draco seemed disbelieving. Draco immediately felt foolish. Perhaps this boy already had a broom and thought Draco was childish because he didn't have one. He decided to ask "Have _you_ got your own broom?"

"No."

Draco was beginning to panic. A boy who didn't want to discuss new brooms? He decided to play his trump card, a proven conversation starter in his experience, "Play Quidditch at all?"

"No."

Oh no! Draco could go on and on about Quidditch, but the boy didn't seem to share an interest. Quickly, Draco said "_I_ do—Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree." Trying to move the conversation forward, Draco continued "Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No." The boy looked uncomfortable at this one. Draco figured his parents were probably from different Houses, and the boy was nervous to support one house over the other in case he hurt one of his parent's feelings.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they?" Draco said, hoping the boy noticed his smooth reassurances, then couldn't resist adding "But I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been—imagine belonging in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

The boy was frowning, which was a bad sign. Perhaps his parents _were _in Hufflepuff? But no—the boy simply replied "mmm" noncommittally. Draco was truly frustrated. What could make this silent boy open up? By now he was fascinated. Nothing intrigued Draco more than a challenge. Finally, Draco found the perfect subject.

"I say," he said, "look at that man!" The stranger twisted to look, then turned to Draco with an almost superior look on his face and said "That's Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts."

Draco was beginning to feel angry. No response to all of the normal conversation starters, but mention a strange man, and the boy turns to him and makes Draco out to be an ignorant? Draco quickly dredged up every mention he had ever heard about this 'Hagrid' and said "Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said the black-haired boy loftily. Draco immediately became more upset.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's sort of…savage—lives in a hut on the school grounds and" Draco paused, struggling to remember what his father had said "and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." There, thought Draco. I've showed him that I _do_ know a lot about Hogwarts. He felt pleased, until he noticed the cold glare he was receiving from the boy.

"I think he's brilliant"

Wonderful. Finally got the boy to talk, and now he was angry. "_Do_ you?" said Draco, a sudden fear in his stomach. What if this boy _was_ a muggleborn? No matter how much the boy intrigued him, Draco couldn't befriend a muggleborn! That would be going against everything his father stood for! Draco had to know if Hagrid was the boy's appointed magical guardian, so he said "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead" the boy replied shortly.

"Oh, sorry," said Draco, knowing he didn't sound sorry, but he was too excited that the boy wasn't a muggleborn. Unless… "But they were_ our_ kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean"

Draco felt like cheering, but held his emotions in check. However, he couldn't resist saying "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same; they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

Before the boy could reply, Madam Malkin led the boy to the register and handed him his money. Draco couldn't let the boy get away without saying something, so he drawled "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose."

The boy left without a backward glance, leaving a confused, frustrated Draco who was confused as to why the boy frustrated him so much. Ah well, thought Draco, only a few weeks until Hogwarts when I can examine this boy and figure out how to befriend him. Draco left the robe shop and headed to the bookstore to meet up with his father.

* * *

Later that evening, as Draco sat organizing his things to be packed into his new trunk (really, the house elves just made a mess of packing and put everything in the wrong place. Draco liked things _just so_) he thought of the boy from the robe shop again. What Draco truly couldn't figure out was why he needed that boy's approval so much. Clearly, Draco would have lots of friends for next year. Clearly, Draco would never be in a lurch for companionship. But why _that_ boy? Draco shook his head and sighed as his mother wandered into his room.

"My dear," his mother began, "I really think you should at least consider this…thing…your father wants you to do. I know," she went on, noticing Draco's moue of distaste "I know you don't want to have a party. I just don't get why you aren't interested in a little get-together of the other future first year purebloods. It could be a great amusement." Draco scowled.

"Mother, I know you're only here because of Father. I know he's really the one interested in this 'get-together,' but I just don't care. I already know some kids, and I don't want to start the year off so very different from everyone else. I will meet kids on the train—that's what the long ride there is all about." He looked at his mother, trying to read her expression. "Do you care if I don't have a party? I just truly don't think it would be fun, especially if you drag in ALL the purebloods. That just leads to tension." His mother sighed.

"Your father will be disappointed, but I knew you'd rather avoid a party like that. After all, I've always said you take after me, more than your father, when it comes to social gatherings—"

"The fewer the better" Draco and his mother chorused, grinning at one another. His father leaned in from the corridor.

"So I take it you two have unanimously decided against a gathering?" Lucius smiled indulgently at his wife and son.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Narcissa replied, arching an eyebrow at her husband. Lucius just raised his hands in surrender.

"It was worth a try. You just wait. Draco is going to transform into a social butterfly, I just know it." Draco's parents began to banter back and forth, not noticing their son, who had slipped off into a corner to go over his interaction with that boy from the robe shop one more time in his head.

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Well? Leave a review and let me know what you think. I'm going to update pretty regularly, because I have the first bit of the story already written, and can (hopefully) keep up a bit of a buffer

~C


	2. Chapter 2

This is a pretty short chapter only because I felt my stopping point was too good to pass up. I hope you like it :)

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The rest of the summer passed in a blur for Draco. Between his mother's fussing about packing, and his father's last minute instructions on how to uphold the Malfoy Creed, Draco barely had time to contemplate the odd meeting with the boy in Madam Malkin's shop. However, whenever a free moment arose, Draco inevitably wound up wondering about the boy. He didn't know where the fascination sprung from, perhaps it was because this boy didn't immediately try to befriend Draco for his social status, perhaps it was that this was the first boy Draco had met without his parents' prior approval. Whatever the reason, Draco was becoming rather obsessed.

Several things about their meeting worried Draco. Why didn't the boy have any parents? Draco had tried to think of witches and wizards that had died and left behind a son, but the only wizard who came to mind was "He who is not mentioned in the Malfoy household," or, that Potter brat. Draco reasoned that that boy wasn't Harry Potter, because, as his father said, Potter was hidden away with some relatives being treated like a King. Potter would have had an entourage as he went shopping for his school supplies, not some crazy half-breeded giant. The mystery boy worried Draco, because Draco didn't know what he'd do if the boy didn't want to be friends with him. Draco figured that who the boy was wasn't important as long as they were friends. Even the son of a lower-status wizarding family would be acceptable to the other Slytherins when allied with the Malfoy heir.

Draco's other concern that summer was his father. He knew his parents were dark wizards, and they supported the Dark Lord, but he also knew they were loving and kind to him. In fact, to Draco, his parents were nicer than any of the hypocritical wizarding parents who felt that attempts to gain power was akin to being child-abusing devil worshipers. Draco knew that there was a divide in the wizarding world because of Voldemort, but he couldn't understand why. His parents had told him of the dark wizard, and his deeds, and Draco couldn't understand why the other wizards were so upset about Voldemort's actions. To Draco, the man was simply defending the wizarding world. After contemplation, Draco decided that the rest of the wizarding world was simply too weak to follow the Dark Lord, and therefore jealous.

Draco was concerned about his father because of his frequent trips to the Ministry. Draco worried that his father was selling out, renouncing his ideals in favor of sucking up to the political party currently in power (the supporters of the "light"). Draco knew that at home, his father would never leave the pureblood ways behind, but to show a different face to the public…it simply rubbed Draco the wrong way.

Because Draco's last weeks at home were packed with things to do and strange boys in robe shops to contemplate, September first arrived with the sort of suddenness that left Draco scrambling to pack his personal effects, and wondering where he had left his QuickNotes quill (a gift from Mr. Nott) as he was cramming a slice of toast into his mouth.

On the way to platform nine and three-quarters, Draco's father lectured (again) on upholding the Malfoy honor, while his mother kept glancing at Draco, as though trying to memorize his features before he left for school. Draco stared blankly into space. He had been so excited about starting Hogwarts, but now that the day had arrived, the anticipation and preparations had left him almost numb.

* * *

It was on the muggle portion of King's Cross that Draco saw the boy again. Fortunately, the boy was on his own, but unfortunately, Draco had to keep up with his parents as they crossed through the wall and into Platform 9 ¾.

Draco's parents were not the sort for tacky public displays. They helped Draco load his trunk into a compartment, made sure he had enough stationary to write every week, and hugged him tight before leaving. Draco sat in his compartment looking out the window. He sat up straighter when he saw the boy from Madam Malkin's, then slumped when he realized the boy was with the Weasleys. Draco pushed the thought from his head. The boy might have only been standing _near_ the redheaded family.

"Draco! How was your summer?" Blaise Zabini had joined Draco in his carriage. The son of an infamous maneater (in the figurative sense, of course…as everyone knew, the _real_ maneaters lived in the rainforests of the Amazon), Blaise Zabini was an "approved" friend for Draco. Despite this, the two boys got on quite well, and Draco considered Blaise to be his one true friend amongst his other acquaintances.

"My summer?" Draco thought "My summer was good. Most of the time, my mother just took me out to do fun things."

"Mine, too. She kept looking at me and sighing and saying—" Blaise paused

"I can't believe how old you're getting!" Draco and Blaise finished at the same time, and grinned at one another.

"Hey Draco, can we er, put our trunks in here?" asked Vincent Crabbe, with Greg Goyle behind him.

"Sure," replied Draco, knowing that even though these boys wouldn't be useful for their mental intellect, they were fiercely loyal, and quick to do a favor to a friend. The boys stored their trunks and sat down, discussing between themselves the merits of chocolate frogs versus bertie bott's every flavor bean ("Well, the beans can't jump in your stomach!" "Yeah, but the frog is always the same flavor!"). Things were settling down, and the train had begun to move when—

"Oh you'll never believe this!" Pansy Parkinson burst into the compartment "I was talking to Daphne, whose older sister dates a Ravenclaw who overheard a Hufflepuff saying that the Weasley twins said that Harry Potter is on the train!"

Crabbe and Goyle looked up briefly, then returned to their discussion. Blaise and Draco glanced at one another. Who knew the prestige that would come from befriending Harry Potter? Draco thought for a minute, then sighed. There was no angle he could think of for wanting to befriend Harry Potter that would be acceptable to his father. Unless Draco could convince his father—no, it wasn't worth trying to convince his father of something this insignificant. This Harry Potter boy was a dreaded topic in the Malfoy household. Before Draco knew better, he had asked about him, and his father had shattered his wineglass. Now, Draco simply avoided the topic.

"What compartment is he in?" asked Blaise, interested despite himself.

"Well, Daphne didn't know, she just said he was found by the twins who helped to load his trunk. Daphne also said," here Pansy giggled "that he's cute!"

"Pansy, what would your father say if you developed a crush on the cause of the Dark Lord's downfall?" Draco asked disparagingly. "Look, none of us can befriend him, but we can certainly uphold our family names by making his time at Hogwarts miserable! Crabbe, Goyle, come with me, and I'll see what kind of enemy we'll have for the upcoming year."

The boys rose and exited the compartment. Draco led them up the train, checking compartments as they went. Eventually, Draco found the compartment whispered about in the corridors. He opened the door, and his heart plummeted. In the compartment were two boys. One was obviously a Weasley, the other, the boy from the robe shop.

"So it's true, then?" Spoke Draco, heart near his toes "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

* * *

That's all for now. I'm sorry that Draco's line is the line from the movie, not the book, but I can't find my copy of the first book! I'll commence my search immediately, however.

Another chapter will go up soon! Please review and let me know how I'm doing.

C


	3. Chapter 3

Hellooooo! I'm having fun updating and fixing this story so far. I hope you're enjoying it too! And i also found the real wording for Draco's line from last chapter...it's in italics

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"_Is it true?" asked Draco. "they're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"_

"Yes," replied the boy, Harry. Draco couldn't help but stare. He'd always imagined what the boy who defeated one of the most powerful wizards in history would look like. Because Harry Potter was not a topic of civilized discussion amongst the crowd his family kept, Draco had been left to imagine what the boy of legend would look like. Somehow, Draco had imagined…taller. This boy was rather small, and very skinny, a fact Draco hadn't really noticed because the boy in the robe shop (Draco was having a hard time reconciling himself to the fact that the boy he'd spent much of his summer thinking about befriending was none other than this legendary boy sitting in front of him) had been on a stool covered by voluminous robes. Draco noticed the boy—_Harry_—staring at Crabbe and Goyle looking a little nervous.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said Draco carelessly, hoping it would look to Harry as though he had lots of friends and, thus, was careless about introducing them. Draco's mind was in overdrive. Now that he knew the Potter boy was the same as the boy from the robe shop, he wanted to befriend him, despite his father's cautions to the contrary. Draco thought if perhaps his father viewed Draco's friendship as a way to steer Potter to his side, his father would approve of the friendship. Draco realized that he hadn't yet introduced himself, and spoke again "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

The ugly redheaded boy pretended to cover a laugh with a cough. Harry looked at the boy appreciatively, and Draco just couldn't have that. HE had discovered Harry first! Draco figured that the Weasley boy hadn't even tried to befriend Harry until he knew the famous wizard's identity, while Draco had been friendly (as friendly as he knew how, at least) without knowing the other boy was rich and famous. Draco glared at the boy.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." There. Let Harry realize that this Weasley boy was simply trying to befriend him for his money. It probably wasn't Harry's fault that he'd picked the wrong compartment. Draco rationalized that Harry didn't even realize he was dealing with a family that earned less in a year that Draco's family did in a week. Such a family would be quick, in Draco's opinion, to take advantage of Harry's fame and wealth. Harry had to be warned.

"You'll soon find out," Draco said "some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter," Draco paused "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort" here he glanced at Weasley, then looked Harry in the eye "I can help you there." Draco held out his hand, congratulation himself for his diplomacy. He hadn't specifically said that Weasley was "the wrong sort" but he had certainly implied it. Draco frowned when he realized that Harry had made no move to take his hand.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry said coolly.

Draco had no idea how to react. He had never, NEVER been rejected as a friend. Those who knew his name, knew his status would hang all over him to try to win his favor. Draco thought for a minute, before realizing that even though he wanted to hate Harry (for Draco couldn't call Harry Potter anything but Harry, at least in his head) he couldn't give up the lingering curiosity from the summer. Draco was horrified to realize that even though he knew a friendship with Harry would infuriate his father, he wanted nothing more than to get to know this boy. Draco had no idea why he felt the pull, but he knew that if he didn't investigate the boy, he would go mad. Draco decided that he had no choice but to leave Harry with the red-haired buffoon, but he knew that if Harry were to blatantly support the "other side" his father and his father's crowd would try to eliminate him.

But how to word this warning? Draco couldn't sound concerned. After Harry spurned his attempt at friendship, Draco was no longer able to publicly befriend the boy. After all, Draco had to uphold the Malfoy family code. Draco decided to sound convincingly mean, and provoke the Weasley, while still getting the message to Harry.

"I'd be careful if I were you Potter," Draco said slowly, "unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents." Ok, perhaps that wasn't the right thing to say, but Draco admitted to himself that he was bent out of joint from Harry's rudeness earlier "They didn't know what was good for them, either" obviously, or they would still be alive. "You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you." Well, thought Draco, that could have gone better. If only he wasn't so upset! For some reason, Draco could barely think straight. His thoughts kept coming back to the boy in the robe shop, how quiet he was, how intriguing.

Harry and the Weasley stood up. "Say that again," the ugly one said.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Draco sneered, feeling a bit victorious as the Weasley's brave façade wavered. Draco knew the boy didn't have enough courage to stand up to a pureblood of high rank for long, and the argument would have made Draco the victor until—

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, glaring at Crabbe and Goyle. Draco couldn't help but admire Harry's moxie, even if it did call Draco's bluff. Draco had no intention of fighting, because he didn't really want to make the situation any worse than it had to be. His father's voice floated into his head, reminding Draco to uphold his honor at all costs. Unfortunately, for now, that cost would be Harry. Draco had to uphold the Malfoy Code, and the Code didn't involve backing down from a fight because you want to befriend your opponent. Draco looked squarely at Harry then glanced at the compartment full of sweets (obviously Potter's, and the Weasley was obviously partaking as well, the first sign of parasitism in their friendship).

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys?" Draco glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, noticing them noticing the candy "We've eaten all our food, and you still seem to have some." Goyle reached for the Chocolate frog (he'd been the one extolling its virtues earlier). Just as his pudgy hand reached the frog, Goyle yelped and jumped back. Draco shuddered. A filthy rat was hanging off of Goyle's finger. Obviously this creature was the Weasley's pet. Harry wouldn't know this, but it was the worst sort of luck, having a rat for a pet. Even a pet _toad_ would have been a more suitable wizarding companion!

Goyle finally managed to shake off the little pest when we heard footsteps coming. Draco took the lead and hurried out of the compartment just before a little bushy haired girl pushed her way in. Motioning to the witless wonders to go back to the compartment without him, Draco slunk over to the door of Harry's compartment to listen to the conversation. The Weasley (Draco could tell because his voice was annoying) was asking Harry where he'd met him before. Harry replied that they'd met in the robe shop but thought Draco was rude and arrogant. Then, Weasley told Harry that Draco's family was evil and dark wizard followers (well, he was half right...but Draco's parents were very kind…)

Draco listened to the exchange in disbelief. Harry thought Draco was rude in the robe shop? Draco scowled. That had been his best attempts at kindness! He didn't know what to think of that revelation. Draco was, generally, quite confused now. As he made his way back to his compartment, Draco considered everything that had happened.

_So let's see. I meet a boy in the robe shop, and do my best to befriend him. Why? Oh, I don't know…he seemed really interesting. I spend the rest of my summer imagining a friendship with the quiet and reserved boy, and get excited about seeing him at Hogwarts. Then, I find out that this boy is Harry Potter. I should be mean to Harry Potter, but I can't seem to find it in me to be unkind to someone who interests me so much. What was the life of Harry Potter like before coming to Hogwarts? Odd that he didn't even know what the Houses were…but I'm getting off topic. I find out that the boy is Harry Potter, and that he thinks I'm arrogant._

_He's also friends with a Weasley, from a family that's not only dirt poor and a sworn enemy of the Malfoys, but a family notorious for it's fickleness, and it social climbing nature. Father told me that the feud started when some great great grand father of Arthur Weasley pretended to be best friends with my great great great grand father Draconis Malfoy (who I'm named after) so that he could get money and prestige._

_So what do I do? Despite it all, I want to become friends with Harry Potter, but I think I may have screwed it all up. I'll observe Harry from afar, and see what he does, and what he's interested in. I'll have to pretend to hate him, I think, but I'll try to find some way to let him know that it's an act…I knew school would make me think, but I never thought I'd have this much to think about! I don't exactly know how to approach this situation. I'll wait until after the welcoming feast, and until classes are in full swing to approach Harry again. In the meantime, I'll always have Blaise, and I know I'm bound to meet some other people to talk to (ones of whom my father will approve)._

Absorbed in his thoughts, Draco made his way back to his friends, changed into his robes, and made his way to the platform where the crazy half-giant showed all the first years to a boat. Hogwarts came into view, and Draco had his first look at the castle where he would be spending the next seven school years of his life. It was impressive, to say the least, nearly twice as big as the Manor (and that was saying something…the Malfoy Manor was the largest private residence in England). As the boats made their way under the ivy, Draco caught sight of Harry and frowned thoughtfully. He'd never met a problem he couldn't solve, and one way or another, Draco was going to figure out what to do about Harry Potter.

* * *

Wheee! I'm off to work on the next chapter. I'm really adding new stuff next chapter, so get excited! And also, review!


	4. Chapter 4

I'm baaaaack! This really prompt update thing probably won't last, but hopefully, I can use my cushion of extra chapters to at least keep a frequent update schedule.

This chapter is dedicated to AlineDaryen, whose consistent reviews have made me smile. Thanks!

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Draco took a politely sized bite of roast chicken, and glared in the direction of the Gryffindor table. "Would you look at that nasty Weasley? He's an embarrassment to all purebloods everywhere." Blaise glanced over, saw Ron Weasley stuffing his face with three foods at once, and shuddered.

"They really ought to make table manners a required class for the Wizarding Academy of Necessary Deportment Skills." Blaise grimaced, while Draco smiled. The boys had met at the academy, called WANDS, at the age of six.

All purebloods were required to attend the academy, but it was up to the parents which classes their offspring attended. Each class had a fee, therefore, the Weasleys only enrolled their children in the least expensive mandatory classes—Secrecy, which taught young witches and wizards how to lie to muggles about magic, and Basic Education, which covered such mundane topics as Geography, Mathematics, and Literacy.

The idea behind the academy was to standardize the educational playing field for all purebloods. The problem was the lax requirements. Parents who cared about their children enrolled them in every class they could afford at WANDS, while parents like the Weasleys felt that letting their children grow up feckless and wild was a decent (and money saving) option.

"Well," replied Draco, "At least it meant we could avoid him at WANDS." Draco really felt relieved that his parents had insisted he be in a different Secrecy and Basic Education class than the Weasel. Merlin only knows how much damage his education would have suffered had Draco been with the Weasel in his formative years. Simply look at Neville Longbottom. The boy could have been intelligent had his classed progressed as Draco's had. Instead, it was constantly held up for the Weasel's academic incompetence.

Draco glanced idly at the head table. Professor Snape was glaring at Harry…Headmaster Dumbledore was casting a spell to turn his food purple…that awful Hagrid person had picked up an entire roast turkey and was gnawing at it…the timid defense professor glanced nervously at the Gryffindor table…and suddenly, Draco was aware of a small disruption. The bushy haired girl sitting next to Harry was looking at him with concern as the boy clutched at his scar. Draco abandoned his inspection of the teachers to look worriedly in Harry's direction, only relaxing when the boy seemed to be over whatever pain was bothering him. The rest of the meal passed without incident, and it was finally time to head to the common room.

The first years chattered excitedly as the prefects lead them down toward the Slytherin Common room. They had heard wonderful stories about the place throughout their childhoods from parents and relatives. The students whose parents had been in other houses were wondering aloud what the differences would be between that house and the Slytherin house. Draco was silent, letting the pleasant chatter wash over him. When they arrived at the stretch of wall that was to be the entrance, the Prefects gathered the group close to whisper the password. They entered the room, and sat on the couches to await their head of House. Severus Snape swept in, and glanced at the students impressively.

"Look around. You see before you a room filled with potential. Each and every one of you have been given the honor of being in the greatest House of Hogwarts. This is the House that has won the Hogwarts House Cup more times than any other house in the past Century," he paused for effect "_combined_. This is the House that has produced peerless wizards, who daily push the limits of magic. This is the House that was formed by Salazar Slytherin for the witches and wizards of the oldest and most noble of bloods. However, this is the House most hated amongst the others. This is the House that is suspected during wrongdoings at the school.

"You, as representatives of Slytherin, must work to avoid these negative connotations. You must band together with your cohorts to protect one another from the antipathy displayed by other Houses. I ask only that you respect the rules of Hogwarts, and the privileges that come from being a member of this illustrious House will continue to be yours to cherish. Any rule-breaking will lose House points. This is unacceptable. I expect nothing but the best from each and every one of you." With this, Snape turned to sweep from the dungeon, then grimaced, and turned back to the gaping first years, and smug upperclassmen.

"Dumbledore wishes to do something to promote inter-House unity within the school. He mentioned some ridiculous 'secret pen-pal' program. Apparently, this program is mandatory, and will count as part of your extra-curricular grade. Everyone grab a quill from the basket and write a nickname. The nickname will be tied to your magical signature, and you will be paired with someone from another House with whom you are required to correspond throughout the year. Meeting this person is not mandatory, but should you desire to do so, you may." Snape scowled, and held out a basket of quills and slips of parchments

There was a brief scramble for quills, and a dull muttering filled the room, friends consulting one another on nicknames, complaints about added assignments, and the like. Draco turned to Blaise. "What have you chosen?"

"I don't really know…I'm going with…erm…" Blaise pulled out the silver necklace that had been glinting against his dark skin "Spider…you know, because of what everyone calls my mum…I know it's stupid, but this whole assignment is stupid. I can't imagine forcing us to correspond with some Hufflepuff, or worse, a Gryffindor, will make us a more united school. What name are you going with?"

"Dragon, probably. I know it's unoriginal, but I don't really care." Draco sighed, signing the slip of parchment with a flourish. He watched lazily as Snape collected the quills and parchments with a flick of his wand, then left the common room. By now, Draco was exhausted, and thoroughly looking forward to getting into bed and forgetting this whole fiasco with the boy from the robe shop ever occurred, even if only for a few hours.

* * *

_Draco,_

_ I received with great satisfaction your first letter from school. Though it was no surprise to hear you have become Slytherin, it pleases me greatly. Your mother has made arrangements for your room to be redecorated in either green or black, with silver accents. She wishes I tell you to owl her with your preference._

_ On the topic of Harry Potter, I realize that he is perhaps a much sought-after companion, but my sources say that our company's boss is nearly ready to resume his position. Therefore, despite any potential prestige gains that could be made through an alliance with Potter, I advise you to treat the boy as you would treat a Weasley (at least, for the time being). Who knows who could be observing your actions? In all respects, protect yourself and our family from any doubt that could arise once company's sabbatical is over._

_ Finally, I will close with this advice: Make as many alliances as you can while in school. You never know who will prove useful in the world outside Hogwarts._

_ Your mother sends her love. I am eager to hear about your classes, so write again soon._

_Father_

_

* * *

_

Draco folded up the letter. He knew he should begin his next letter to his father, telling him that Potions was quickly becoming his favorite topic, and that McGonagall was biased against him based off her prejudices from being allied with Dumbledore, but Draco couldn't muster the will. Draco was having an awful week. First, he'd tried to impress Harry by putting down the Longbottom boy, then he'd tried to arrange a meeting (in the guise of a duel) to talk, but the Longbottom affair had made Harry hate him more, and the duel was ruined by the Weasley's determination to be a "second," and by Crabbe telling Filch about the duel.

As Draco put the last bite of toast into his mouth, he shoved his letter into his bag, and made his way to his classes. In his second class, Charms, Flitwick pulled a basket of letters from under his desk. He flicked his wand, and the letters went speeding to each member of the class.

"This is your first letter from your penpal!" Squeaked Flitwick enthusiastically. "I'm so excited about this program, that I'm going to give you fifteen minutes right now to read your letters and write a reply!" the tiny wizard beamed around at the unenthusiastic students. Draco opened his letter and regarded the untidy scrawl.

_Dear 'Dragon'_

_First of all, I think this is a silly assignment. There are so many things about magic that I could be learning, but I'm stuck writing a stupid letter. No offence to you, of course._

Draco snorted. At least he and his pen-pal had something in common. He read on.

_Anyways, umm, I'm supposed to tell you about myself. I'm a first year, which is obvious, because they were pairing first years with first years. I'm not supposed to give away my identity, so I won't give a physical description. I like flying, Exploding Snap, and Chocolate Frogs. I don't care for Bertie Botts. That's really all I can think to say to you, unknown person._

_Sincerely,_

_Thunder_

Draco snorted again. "Thunder?" Really? Draco supposed he couldn't really give his pen-pal grief for his nickname. No one had really put much thought into their names. Draco pulled out a quill and began his response.

_Thunder,_

_I'm glad you agree this assignment is a waste of time. I don't know what I would have done if my partner was overly enthusiastic about this project. Following the format of your letter, I'll tell you about myself. I like flying, too, but I prefer Chess to Snap, and I like Honeydukes Chocolate better than the frogs. My favorite subject is Potions, even if the class itself is overly simplistic. I want to play Quidditch for my House one day. Umm, I've just been told that I have to ask a question about you, so…If you could be invisible for a day, what would you do?_

_Sincerely_

_Dragon_

That silly assignment out of the way, Draco glanced at his watch. Only seven minutes had elapsed, leaving him time to write a quick response to his father's letter. Draco pulled out a fresh roll of parchment, and began his letter.

* * *

Yes, I know. There was no mention of the penpal thing in JKR's version, but I figure I have to find SOME ways to be original, or the story will be boring. Hopefully, I can keep things fun. Please review and let me know what you think!

C


	5. Chapter 5

As the weeks wore on and the weather turned colder, thoughts turned toward the Inter-House Quidditch Tournament. Draco hadn't been sure how to react when he found out that Harry Potter was the Seeker for the Gryffindor team. On the one hand, Draco was intensely jealous, and a bit angry that Harry got the honor because of Draco's unwitting machinations. On the other hand, Draco pleased the boy had adjusted to magic so quickly and no longer reacted to everything magical like a muggleborn. Draco rationalized that he felt better knowing Harry was living up to his lineage (despite the fact that Evans was a muggleborn, Harry was considered only slightly below pureblooded, because of the strength of the Potter line, and the fact that, after all, his mother had been a witch).

The letters arrived, and Draco was pleased to see that "Thunder" had written back. Despite the cheesiness of the assignment, Draco found that he had a lot in common with Thunder. Both boys (for they had determined that both were male) were interested in Quidditch, both boys had an affinity for learning about magic, and the two were quickly discovering that they shared a sense of humor, and many other minute details with one another. Draco had given up trying to figure out who his mystery friend was, content to develop his friendship with "Thunder" without the stigmatism associated with normal Slytherin interactions. For a brief minute, Draco had toyed with the hope that it was with Harry Potter that he conversed, but that notion was quickly dismissed because Thunder was simply too different from the Harry Potter Draco saw every day. While Draco still felt drawn to Harry for reasons beyond his comprehension, Draco was beginning to form a deep friendship with Thunder. Draco unfolded his letter.

_Dear Dragon,_

_Yes, I will be at the Quidditch match. I'm very excited about it, but nervous about the outcome all the same. You had asked me a question about Monkshood…as far as I can tell, the only way to figure out the solution to Snape's question is to remember what he said first class, about Monkshood and Wolfsbane being the same thing (also called Aconite, if I remember correctly). If you look up the properties of Wolfsbane in __Potions Ingredients For the Pre-OWL Student__ found in the Library Reference section, you'll find some information that should be useful. _

_I was hoping you could give me a hint about what Quirrel meant when he discussed the Danger Quotient of the Vampire. I'm a bit unclear on the calculations, and since I've just helped you with your potions, maybe you could give me a hint about the DADA essay? One of my friends is quite good at schoolwork, but is too busy to offer me any assistance right now._

_Have you ever read __Quidditch through the Ages__? I've just finished it, and I really enjoyed it. Are there any other books I might read about Quidditch? Most of the others I've found are all about tactics, and get quite dull sometimes._

_Hope to hear from you soon!_

_Thunder_

Draco made a note to look up the potions book, then made his way to the Quidditch Pitch to watch the game. He met up with Blaise as he walked.

"Hey Dray, haven't seen you in awhile…what've you been up to lately that doesn't involve writing those bloody letters? I know you're all about good marks, but most students have only written their person three times at the most…and you must've sent ten letters in the past week alone!" Said Blaise, rolling his eyes at his best friend's over-achieving nature.

"I've only sent eight!" Draco defended himself "And don't call me Dray—It isn't dignified!"

"Whatever, Drake," Blaise ducked to avoid Draco's arm as he swung it at the back of his head "Geez! Touchy! Anyways, we've missed hanging out with you lately. Pansy said to let you do your thing, because we all know how much you want to please your parents, but this is getting ridiculous!" Blaise mock glared at Draco "I'm beginning to think you only hung out with me because you were bored!"

"Blaise you know that I—nice…you definitely had me feeling guilty for a millisecond there" Draco grinned "I guess I have been a bit busy, but I just needed to get settled into a routine. I've done that, so I'll probably have more time for you now."

"Probably?" Screeched Pansy "You'll definitely have time for us, or I'll know why!" The girl grinned at Draco "Hi Drake! Missed me?"

"Dray-Co" Enunciated Draco "Not Dray, Drake, Drakie, or whatever else you can come up with! People, I'm a Malfoy, and in the Malfoy family, nicknames simply aren't done!"

Draco heard a snort, and turned to see the Weasel attempting to smirk at him. "I'm a Malfoy, people!" Sneered the Weasel "Admire me! Worship me!"

Draco gazed coolly at the Weasel. "At least I'm not an ugly social-climber," he said, causing the redhead to flush with anger, and the bushy haired twerp (Manger? No, Granger) to glance at the Weasel in confusion. Clearly she thought the animosity between the two boys had sprung from Draco's haughty personality. Draco hoped she'd ask the Weasel uncomfortable questions about the origins of the Malfoy-Weasley feud. Draco turned toward the Slytherin section of the stadium, leaving the Gryffindors to head to their own section.

*THIS IS A LINE BREAK*

That weekend, Draco decided to finish his Potions homework. Deciding to take Thunder's advice, Draco made his way towards the library. Before he got far, Draco rand into Gregory Nott, named Gregory because pureblooded families were into naming children after purebloods of old, therefore every generation tended to have a name prevalent throughout the families. This generation, it was Gregory. Nott pulled Draco into an alcove and hissed in his ear, "I saw you looking at Potter at breakfast. You'd better be careful. There are those of us who would see a pureblood, especially a Malfoy, looking at the "boy who bloody wouldn't die" and get angry." Nott squeezed Draco's arm "Very angry. I'm sure you don't want to experience this anger, so you'd best stay loyal to 'the old cause.' Yes, I see that look, I know you're a Malfoy and all that rot. But answer me this 'young lord' would your father be happy to hear the source of our anger? Would a fascination with the Potter boy be befitting to the famous Malfoy code?" Nott let go and backed away "Take this warning and think very very carefully on it. You don't need to give me an answer, because we'll see a change in your behavior, won't we?" Nott turned and strode away, leaving Draco shaking in anger.

Who was this boy to be so rude, especially to a Malfoy heir? Draco had never really been one to take orders, so he was angry about Nott's warning. Compounding this anger was the fact that Draco had no intention of trying to befriend Harry, at least, not anytime in the near future. Draco knew he needed a solid angle before he could befriend Dumbledore's golden boy, and until then, he needed to stay far away. Draco realized that while he was thinking, his feet had brought him to the library.

Upon entering, Draco breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of old books, the paper and ink combined with a smell that was unique to the Hogwarts Library, a scent Draco had dubbed "magic." Draco glanced around at the airy room, spotting a doorway marked "Reference." He made his way through the door, and searched the shelves until he found the book thunder had mentioned. Pulling the heavy tome from the shelf, Draco carried it to the tables in the center of the room. He sat down and flipped to the index. "Wereroot…Woggletap…Wolfsnip… Wolfsbane!" Draco flipped to the section and began to take notes. When he got to the last page about Wolfsbane, the properties, he saw a sheet of parchment. Draco set his notes to dry, and looked at the sheet.

_Hi Dragon! I hope the book was useful, and that you found it ok! Were you at the match? What did you think? I can't wait for your next letter…~Thunder_

Draco smiled and folded the sheet before slipping it and his notes into his bag. He replaced the book on the shelf, and gathered his belongings to go, still smiling at the note from Thunder. He didn't notice that he had left his favorite quill, nor had he seen the emerald green eyes that had widened as he pulled out the note. Draco was oblivious to the boy standing shell-shocked right outside the door to the Reference room, making his way back to the Slytherin dorm already composing his next letter to Thunder in his head.


	6. Chapter 6 from Harry's perspective

Harry gazed at his food, swirling the mashed potatoes with the peas as he listened to Ron tell a story about Fred and George. He'd heard it before, and was beginning to tune out the red-head's wild ramblings. Why hadn't he felt the need to make other friends? Harry wondered silently.

True, Harry had been rather obsessed with corresponding with his pen-pal, but since finding out that "Dragon" was none other than Draco Malfoy, Harry had stopped corresponding with him altogether. This turned out to be a bad idea. Though Harry dearly loved Ron and Hermione, there comes a time when you've had too much time with someone. For Harry, that time had come. Excusing himself from the table, Harry made his way to his dorm.

Once in his room, Harry took out the pile of letters, half unopened. It had been two months since he'd discovered Draco was his secret pen pal. It was nearly Christmas by now, and Harry was, well, beginning to regret the way he'd treated his pen pal. The Dragon Harry loved corresponding with was not the same boy as Draco Malfoy. Harry decided to open the letters. What harm would come from simply reading the letters?

* * *

_Dear Thunder,_

_ Thanks for your help with my potions question, and your note. It made me happy to know that I have someone to talk to who is devoted to learning as I am. I was just wondering—would you like to meet up? We could meet face to face and talk about things without a long wait between correspondences. If you wanted, we could go to the Kitchens (my mother told me how to get in) and have lunch…just let me know!_

_-Dragon_

_

* * *

_

_Dear Thunder,_

_ I guess you don't really feel like meeting up just yet. That's okay! I still want to talk to you! I was just thinking of you in DADA. Quirrell was talking about this really neat spell…something about turning a vampire's hair purple, so you can tell for sure if he's a vampire…anyways, I thought about you and thought that maybe you could explain why the hair turns purple. Do you think that it would turn, say, a werewolf's hair a different color too?_

_-Dragon_

_

* * *

_

_Dear Thunder,_

_ I haven't heard from you in a long time—are you feeling okay? I checked with Madame Pomfrey, and she said there hadn't been anyone in recently, so I guess you haven't gotten injured or anything. I really want to hear from you, so write me back soon, okay?_

_-Dragon_

_

* * *

_

_Thunder,_

_ Either you're really being rude, or I've said something to offend you. I haven't heard from you in nearly two weeks, and I'm starting to worry. Write me back!_

_-Dragon_

_

* * *

_

_Thunder,_

_ Apparently I was wrong. I really thought I could become good friends with you. I guess I was right, and this really is just a stupid assignment, and nothing will come of it. I don't know why you're giving me the cold shoulder, and I'm not okay with it. If you still want to talk, write to me. If not, I'll just write you again when it's required in February._

_-Dragon_

_

* * *

_

Harry put down the letters, feeling awful. True, Draco hadn't been kind to Harry, but since Harry wasn't technically supposed to know about the true identity of "Dragon" he didn't really have the right to stop talking to his pen-pal. Harry supposed he should write a quick letter, just to be kind.

_Dragon,_

_ Sorry I haven't written to you in such a long time. I had some things going on that upset me, and I was just confused for awhile. If you want to keep corresponding, I'm open to it. If you can't forgive me, I understand._

_Sincerely,_

_Thunder_

Harry sent the letter off with a school owl (he was more afraid than ever that Hedwig would be recognized) and sat back. Oddly, he felt so much better now that he had sent the letter. A noise came from the doorway, and he looked up to see Neville searching though his trunk.

"Alright there, Neville?" Harry asked. It turned out the boy couldn't find his potions text. Harry handed Neville his copy, then made his way to the common room. After staring at the fire for awhile, Harry realized with a jolt that he was supposed to be in the Library, with Ron and Hermione, researching the mysterious Nicholas Flamel. Harry remembered earlier conversations with "Dragon" and realized that if anyone were to know about an obscure wizard like Flamel, it would be Draco. Harry sighed. Why did life throw such a perfect friend his way, but make said perfect friend hate him? He headed in the direction of the library.

* * *

Okay, I know it's short, but it was better to go from Harry's perspective, so you know why he's still writing to Draco. Next chapter, back to the blond boy we know and love! I'll have the next chapter up ASAP...but a few reviews might make me write faster...

C


	7. Chapter 7

Draco glared around the study room. Why did everything at Hogwarts seem to exist to annoy him? Recently, he had been in a remarkably foul mood. He refused to admit to himself that Thunder's lack of responses to his letters hurt him, and chose instead to be cantankerous and rude as though it were his nature. Draco turned his glare towards his astronomy homework. Why oh why did he have to write an essay about the weather and its effects on the ability to see the stars? Any excuse to avoid the idea of Thunder was pushed aside for this assignment, which was probably contributing to Draco's current mood.

Blaise had noticed a change in Draco in recent days. He remarked that the other boy seemed more snappish than usual, and questioned the reasons for it. Blaise seemed to think that any bad mood could easily be solved by the mention of the Christmas holiday's rapid approach. Draco, however, was simply reminded that he had ordered a book for Thunder as a Christmas gift back when the two were corresponding regularly.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his best friend. Blaise was diligently focusing on the potions essay, (which Draco had completed earlier in the afternoon) a frown of concentration wrinkling his forehead. Draco guiltily realized that with all the moping he'd done over Thunder's inexplicable cold shoulder, he hadn't really spent much time with his friend. Draco decided to break the silence between them.

"How's the essay? I had a bit of trouble with it until I remembered the bit about the powdered bone of—"

"What do you want, Draco? I've already lent you my best quill…" Blaise sighed wearily

Draco squirmed, guilty that his attempt at strengthening his flagging relationship was seen as an attempt to get a favor. "Nothing, Blaise! I just wanted to ask you about your essay!" Draco knew Blaise would understand. It seemed like a cold conversation, but any Slytherin would recognize this as an almost sappy conversation. Draco grimaced at how the conversation would have gone were the participants, say, Harry Potter and the Dreadful Weasley:

"Oh Ron! You're my best friend forever, and I've only just realized I've been neglecting you lately in favor of moping around! I'm so sorry! Here, let me offer you some advice on your essay, because I know you don't like potions, and I just want a chance to talk to you!"

"Harry, it's quite alright! I know we're still friends! I lent you my Quidditch book just last week, and if that isn't proof that I still want to be friends with you, can I lend you something else? Something important to me?" (wait, mused Draco, Gryffindors don't offer personal effects as proof of friendship…that part of the conversation would have been left out…oh well…thank God Slytherins aren't like that!)

"Draco? Draco!" Blaise was snapping his fingers in an attempt to get the young Malfoy's attention "Look-there's an owl in that window" Blaise rose and retrieved a letter from the owl "Are you still corresponding with that bloody pen pal? I've only written mine once! Got some bizarre response about 'Hogwarts, a History'…my pen pal must be a bloody loon!"

"I haven't spoken with my pen pal in ages, Blaise." Draco eyed the letter, hoping despite himself that it was from Thunder. He took the letter from Blaise's outstretched hand, and glanced at the envelope. From the outside, it was unremarkable, unmarked and slightly crumpled. Draco opened the letter and read the brief lines penned in a familiar scrawl, and he was embarrassed to admit how his heart seemed to lighten, and his glare lessened in intensity until it was simply a haughty Malfoy frown.

"So it WAS the pen pal?" Blaise sighed "Sometimes I feel like that pen pal of yours comes before everything else in your life. I'd be careful…you could be corresponding with a Weasley!"

"Malfoys and Weasleys have absolutely nothing in common…if this were a Weasley, I would know from the misspelled words and boring anecdotes." Draco smiled at his friend "This pen pal of mine is actually interesting. However, there's no replacement for a truly Slytherin friend." Draco pulled out a quill, ignoring Blaise's yelp that "Hey that's mine!" and began to write his response.

* * *

_Dear Thunder,_

_ I was beginning to think that perhaps you'd wandered into the forbidden forest and been eaten by a werewolf! Though your letter was a bit light on content, I was very pleased you found the time to write me back. I feel we should return to the earlier stages of our correspondence, because my mention of actually meeting in the flesh is what, I fear, may have scared you off._

_ I was just thinking of what you'd said in an earlier letter (from early October) about the teachers. I'm thinking that perhaps Snape dislikes you so much because you don't demonstrate your intelligence? From what you've said of your performance in class (not raising your hand, not volunteering extra information on your homework) I feel Snape may feel you are unintelligent, and thus, a waste of his time. I know this is not the case, and if you proved it to Snape, he would probably be much more obliging in his conduct towards you._

_ Have you kept up with Quidditch? I've been to all the matches, and I must say, Quidditch at Hogwarts is different than anything I've ever seen before, and I've been attending games for as long as I can remember! Even as a first year, Harry Potter is one of the most talented seekers I've seen…excepting, of course, myself. I joke, but I am looking forward to trying out next year. Quidditch has always been important to me, and I really hope I'm good enough to make my House team._

_Sincerely,_

_Dragon_

_PS-I really AM glad to have heard from you!

* * *

_

Draco folded the letter and sent it off with the owl, who had waited patiently for Draco to finish his letter. Draco grimaced internally at the sappiness of the letter, but after a moment's contemplation, shrugged it off. If he was being honest with himself, Draco knew he wasn't cut out to be a true Malfoy. He was (as he'd heard his mother quote Macbeth) "too full of the milk of human kindness" to be able to distance himself from his peers and act the jerk the way his father did (in public, anyways). Draco knew that while he was an expert at faking the cold Malfoy demeanor, he was too invested in the worldly affairs to be truly aloof.

Soul searching aside, Draco glanced over his homework. Deciding that it was satisfactory (okay, more than satisfactory) he decided to take a break and do some reading. His father had sent him a book about Dumbledore's achievements (with an attached note: "Know Thine Enemy") for his spare time. Draco opened to the chapter about Alchemy. As he read, he kept careful notes about Dumbledore's interactions with Nicholas Flamel. Of course, Draco already knew who Flamel was, as he'd had a private tutor since before he could remember. Draco was simply interested in learning more about the enigma in a purple robe that was Dumbledore.

After another hour of concentration, Draco heard Blaise sigh, and crack his neck. Both boys silently began packing up their schoolbooks, and exited the study room in favor of the library. Walking side by side, Draco and Blaise made their way toward the exit. As they walked, they passed Harry, the Weasley, and the Muggleborn know-it-all. Draco sneered at their weak attempts at subterfuge. Obviously they were researching something that was none of their business. Draco was suddenly arrested by green eyes staring at him. Draco raised an eyebrow to acknowledge the stare, but Harry refused to look away. Draco tried to sneer, but was so unnerved by this unusual interaction, he knew the expression came out as more of a grimace.

_I thought I was past all this_ Draco bemoaned the interaction later, safely ensconced in his bed. _I thought I was past the idea of being friends with Harry, I mean, Potter, I mean, Harry! Arrgh! Why is that boy so hard to hate? I can't seem to manage it, and when I try to shut him out of my life, he keeps popping back up and making it impossible for me to forget him. Why?_

No closer to finding the answer to his questions, Draco rolled over in bed and closed his eyes. His dreams that night were full of messy haired boys and sorcerer's stones.

* * *

Though slightly longer than last chapter, this is pretty short, I know. I'm working on the next chapter, however, and it will probably be twice as long as this one.

Please review...They are really encouraging, and don't take much time. I love to hear how I'm doing, and any critiques just make the story better!

C


	8. Chapter 8

Hi! Longest chapter yet! I just want to make one note before I start (and I'm glad a reviewer pointed it out to me) I used the term "Sorcerer's Stone" when regarding that little rock Flamel created. I know that the UK version called it the Philosopher's Stone, but I live in the US. Therefore, I'm sticking to what my books say. I don't think this will be an issue going forward (I think the titles etc. are the same for the other books) but I did want to explain why I said what I said.

Enjoy the chapter, and keep on reviewing!

* * *

Life passed as usual for a few weeks. Draco had received several letters from Thunder, and was so glad his pen pal hadn't deserted him, that he didn't mind answering Thunder's questions ("I've heard the name Nicholas Flamel…but who is he?"). In Potions class, as the year was ending, Draco received a nasty shock.

"I know many of you have been wondering when the pen-pal assignment was going to come to an end. Thankfully, Dumbledore decided that today everyone is to write their last letter to his or her penpal. It is up to you if you wish to continue the interactions with your penpal, but the owls are no longer keyed into code names, so you'd have to get a real name from your partner to be able to continue." Snape, message delivered, sank into his chair and glared and the Gryffindors. Suddenly, he stood back up "And, according to Dumbledore, if you and your partner meet one another in person, you can sign up to receive five bonus points in" Snape sighed "Any class. Perhaps now some of you actually have a prayer of passing potions…though I doubt it."

Draco glanced around the room dazedly. He was upset about losing contact with Thunder. He had never breached the topic of meeting up again, because Thunder had reacted so oddly the first time, and Draco didn't want another period of cold treatment. Over the months, he and Thunder had become very close, and Draco was determined not to lose the friendship of the boy so similar to himself (it had been determined through their letters that Thunder was NOT Slytherin, a male, and not from London). After class, Draco made his way to the library to write his letter to Thunder.

* * *

_Dear Thunder,_

_ Over this year I've felt like I've gotten to know you really well. I actually feel like I've gained a friend from this assignment, something I never thought would happen. I would like to continue our correspondences beyond this year, but to do so, we'd need to exchange names. I know we aren't from the same house, but I don't think that would make a friendship difficult. I have lots of friends from other housed. There's, err, okay, so you'd be my first friend from another house, but as I've told you before, sometimes you seem practically Slytherin!_

_ I refuse to say "goodbye" in this letter, because I hope that you'll give me your name so that we can continue to correspond. If you should choose not to continue this correspondence (and friendship) I just wanted you to have this, as a thank you for not being a dreadful pen-pal._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy aka Dragon_

* * *

Draco read back over the letter, grimacing at the mushiness. It seemed that whenever he corresponded with Thunder, he lost all Slytherin and Malfoy identity, and became someone else (Draco liked to call this person "Simply Draco"). Draco folded the letter and attached a lightning bolt shaped pendant he had found in a room of Hogwarts (It was odd, Draco had been pacing back and forth in a corridor trying to figure out what to give Thunder when he stumbled upon a room containing all sorts of small gifts. He had spotted the pendant, and left a galleon in its place, but when he tried to show Blaise the room, it was nowhere to be found)

As soon as the letter had been sent, Blaise came storming into the room. "You will not believe," he ranted "what I've just received in the mail. My partner, 'Books' insists that we meet up. Insists. You should read the letter; she actually threatens my manhood if we don't meet for the extra credit points. She said she'll find my house, figure out who I am, and make my life a living hell if I don't meet with her so she can get bonus points." Blaise paused "She's ruthless, and I rather admire that."

"At least your pen-pal actually wants to meet with you," Draco sighed "I think I might be the only first year who actually has a fantastic relationship with his penpal, but whose penpal doesn't want to meet with me. I just don't understand-"

"Draco, you're my best mate, but if you continue to wallow in self pity like this, I'm going to go off the deep end. You have tons of friends, and if this Thunder person can't get off his bloody high horse to meet with a mere pen pal, then when I eventually figure out who Thunder is, I'll give him a piece of my mind, and make sure he knows what an awesome friend he missed out on. Do you understand?" Blaise was panting slightly after his outburst, but still managed to look collected as he raised an eyebrow at Draco. "Anyways, I have to go meet MY penpal, so I need to leave now. I'll save you a seat at dinner, okay?"

* * *

The last day of school was approaching, and Draco had never heard back from Thunder. He had no idea what he'd done to inspire _another_ cold shoulder, but he did his best to ignore it. On his way to lunch, Draco passed Blaise, who was conversing with a Ravenclaw. Blaise saw him, and detached from the group to join Draco.

"Drake, I have the most amazing news ever!"

"DraCO"

"Yeah yeah, I'm not even going to argue that yet. Hold on a sec and listen to what's been going around the school: The company CEO was here. Yes, at Hogwarts. He was possessing Quirrell, and he was trying to get" Blaise paused for effect "The _Sorceror's Stone!_ But while he was in the place where the stone was hidden, Potter showed up and defeated Quirrell in some sort of bizarre duel. He's been in the Hospital wing for, forever! The story leaked out through the Weasley, who was talking all about his role in helping Potter. I know it's true because, well, you know how Books turned out to be Her—I mean, Granger? Well, I just asked Granger if the story was true, and she admitted that parts of it were. Anyways, I got from her that they went into the 3rd floor corridor that night, the night after we'd met up for extra credit! I can't believe that she was on her way to doing such an exciting thing! She seemed so calm and collected…" Blaise trailed off "Well? What do you think of all this?"  
Draco turned over the events in his head. He knew his father wouldn't be pleased that Harry had managed to thwart the Dark Lord (again) but secretly, Draco was glad that Harry hadn't been killed, and had, in fact, emerged victorious. He was slightly worried that the boy from the long ago robe shop was still in the Hospital Wing, but he quickly pushed that emotion to the side and tried to focus on the goings-on at the Slytherin table.

Over the past year, Draco had formed close ties with Daphne Greengrass, a quick witted Slytherin of small fortune (the equivalent of perhaps 10 weasley family fortunes). Draco and Daphne had decided early on in their friendship that the other was the sibling they'd never been given. Draco knew that this summer, the two of them would visit almost every week. Draco sat between Blaise and Daphne, thinking about the summer that was to come. This summer would be Draco's last summer on his eleven and under Quidditch team. Next year, Draco was looking forward to being in the twelve to fifteen year old's Quidditch league, but for this year, he was excited to be the bigshot seeker on his team (the fanged Frisbees, so named by seven year old Draco and Blaise, who played chaser for a few years before losing interest in the sport).

That afternoon, the common room was filled with noise, which was unusual for the reserved Slytherin house. The students were introducing their owls to one another (so that their owl could find their friends over the summer) and detailing their summer plans. The dorms were a mess because of the packing, as each student attempted to sort out his or her belongings from the group (the Slytherins believed that bringing, for example, multiple magical radios was a waste of space. As such, each student brought something to share. That way, the student could spend the money to get the absolute top of the line item).

Draco finished his packing early and sat in the common room. Even though he had been disappointed by the outcome of the pen-pal assignment, he was happy to have met Daphne, and he was beginning to form ties with some upper year Slytherins as well. His marks had been stellar, and he knew his father would count this year a success. When it was time, Draco, along with Blaise, made his way to the Slytherin table for the feast.

* * *

Draco stared around the room. The decorating motif suggested that the Slytherin House had won the House Cup, and he was thrilled to be part of a continuing legacy. He had worked hard to avoid losing House points (well, except for that disastrous night that lead to detention with the Giant, Granger, the near-Squib, and Harry) and he had studied hard to gain House points through his stellar marks. Draco noticed that Harry was back, out of the hospital wing. He was holding a silver dragon, and glancing toward the Slytherin table. Draco figured Harry was still a bit loopy from his stay in the Hospital Wing, and dismissed the actions.

Draco had been having a pretty good day. As Dumbledore stood to give his speech, Draco was eagerly anticipating the moment when he and his friends would stand and be recognized. However, their celebration was cut short as Dumbledore gave last minute points to the Gryffindors for whatever it was that Harry and the Weasley and Granger did. As he realized that the Gryffindors had passed the Slytherins, Draco got angry. It was unfair. The points system was cut off a week before exams, everyone knew that! Draco was angry at Dumbledore's blatant disregarding of the rules, but there was nothing he could do about it. He sat back and commiserated with his friends, and tried to still enjoy the feast.

As the desserts disappeared, and the students stood to go to their dorms, Draco suddenly ran into Harry. Draco didn't feel like pretending to be snarky, so he didn't say anything to the boy. Harry swallowed nervously, and handed the silver dragon to Draco.

"Hey 'Dragon,' umm… 'Thunder' asked me to give this to you. He didn't want to give up his identity, so he thought he'd send someone to give you a present and thank you for the pendent. 'Thunder' said he was sorry that he didn't get to write you back, but he was really busy with…erm…studying for exams. He also wanted me to tell you to have a good summer." With that, Harry Potter turned and left without a backward glance. Draco looked at the dragon, a long silver beast that was enchanted to curl around the owner's arm. He made his way to his room in a daze, pleased that "Thunder" perhaps didn't hate him.

* * *

The goodbyes on the platform had been sad, even though Draco knew he'd see his friends over the summer. He had met up with his parents and they were on their way back to the Malfoy estate. Draco had been giving the details of the school year to his parents, who were overall quite pleased with him for the way his summer had been going. They praised him for his marks and his social conduct. Their only gripe with the way Draco had behaved during the school year was that he had gotten detention, and that he was beaten (just barely) by Granger during the exams. Their reasoning was that if a Muggleborn who knew nothing about magic before receiving her Hogwarts letter could beat a Pureblood, the Pureblood must not have studied hard enough.

Draco looked out the window as his home came into view. He knew he had a whole summer ahead of him, but all he could think of was getting back to Hogwarts for another year.


	9. Chapter 9

"Draco?" Harry looked nervous "I'm sorry for how I've treated you. I've realized you aren't really as bad as you try to act, and I feel bad for the way I refused to shake your hand on the train. Can we be friends?" Harry looked at Draco expectantly. Draco stared into those maddeningly green eyes (maddening because Draco had come to associate the color green—the color of Slytherin, no less—with Harry and his eyes) and gulped. This was it! He'd finally managed to befriend the boy from Madame Malkin's!

"Draaaaacoooo" Harry's voice got softer, kinder than he'd ever spoken to anyone before. "Draaaacoooo…wake up" Draco woke with a start. His mother was sitting by his bed. The sun was up—barely. It was the first day of Quidditch practice. Draco shook his head to dispel the dream from his consciousness. He had to focus on Quidditch today. He'd have time to think about that dream later. "Good morning, Mother" Draco smiled at his mother. He knew she'd missed him while he was gone. His redecorated room was proof of that. She'd obviously spent hours upon hours in his room working to make it the best room a boy could want.

"Good morning, darling. Are you excited about your practice today? I've got a surprise for you, later today, if you do well at practice." Narcissa smiled warmly at her son "And I've asked Dobby to prepare something special for breakfast—I don't want you flying on a full stomach, so it's light, but I've had fresh fruit sent in, and Dobby's been working on an almond torte for you." She laughed at Draco's look of surprise "yes, I know it's normally a birthday breakfast, but I've missed you so much, that I feel today can count as a special occasion!" She rose gracefully from her perch on the side of his bed "Now get up and get ready to go!

* * *

Dripping with sweat, Draco pushed to finish his final lap around the pitch. The coach this year was ruthless. A warlock who "could have made it professionally" had he not been concussed too many times by the bludgers, Benedict Richter (known to the young players as "Sir") coached the young team the way a professional Quidditch team would be coached…ruthlessly. He firmly believed that a team had to be physically fit to win matches. He made the team spend their entire first day of practice on the ground, running laps, and doing muggle exercises like "push ups" and "sit ups." Draco and Blaise jokingly said that Voldemort should have just created an exercise tape and let the Muggles torture themselves…apparently, the silly things thought these activities were _good_ for you. After the amount of muggle exercises they had endured that day, Draco wondered how Muggles managed without tension relieving and energy boosting potions.

After rinsing off in the team locker room, Draco changed into a clean set of clothes. He liked to wear the wizarding version of Muggle clothing, especially in the summer when robes were simply too hot. A shrewd pureblood, Parkinson had employed some Muggleborn to create a fashion line that was similar to the type of clothing Muggles wore. Of course, the magical versions had many different qualities that would have been impossible with non-magic cloth, but still, the trendy clothing was wildly popular. Checking the time, he realized that it was well after the time he was supposed to be meeting his mother. Practice had run over by an hour, meaning that the day was almost half over. Rushing out of the locker room, Draco spotted his mother chatting with Ms. Zabini (no one ever dared call her anything else, even when she was currently married) under the shade of a giant tree. Spotting Draco, his mother said her goodbyes to Blaise's mother, and made her way to him.

"How was practice? I noticed it ran over, but I didn't see any of you in the air."

Draco grimaced "Today was all about conditioning. We didn't get to fly at all, and the coach made us run laps." Narcissa's mouth quirked into a smile.

"Yes, that sounds like old Bennie." Draco gaped at her "Yes, Draco, I knew your coach when he was younger. I was actually betrothed to him for a short while, until your father made my parents realize that an alliance with the Malfoys was much superior to an alliance with the Richters. Thank the Gods. I liked Bennie well enough, but, well, the Bludgers to the head left rather much to be desired in the personality department. He is a good coach, however, and his methods are to be respected." She glanced at the position of the sun (Malfoys don't wear watches, #574 in the creed. It's undignified, according to a great great great uncle Malfoy) and seemed to realize what time it was "Oh my! Draco, we have to go!" with that, she held out the portkey and activated it, bringing them back to the mansion.

"What's going on?" Draco asked, wondering at his mother's almost (almost) ungraceful landing. His mother said nothing, but turned and hurried toward the broom shed (though it was really more of a broom _mansion_ with more square footage that the Weasley's Burrow (his great grandfather had made sure of that when designing the broom shed)). The building contained not only brooms, but two locker rooms complete with showers and a lounge each, an indoor facility, where flying could be practiced during the rain (#326, Malfoys do not go out in the rain if at all possible…ruins the hair, and thus, the reputation), and a room his father had designed and added on—a luxurious lounge with couches around the outside. The middle of the room was taken up with a glass box that would play a Quidditch game above it in real time (the box worked with omnioculars, his father had created it for the games he didn't feel like travelling to. The Omnioculars would send the game to the magic in the box, and the box would play the game for those in the lounge.

His mother reached the broom shed, and went to the lounge. Draco still followed bemusedly, wondering what on earth his mother was doing. When he arrived in the lounge, Draco gasped. Sprawled comfortably on the couch was up and coming seeker Viktor Krum. Draco knew he played for his sector at Durmstrang (they had sectors, similar to the Hogwarts houses) and that he was so talented Bulgaria was trying to get the rules re-written so that he could come to play for them at the tender age of 15, and absolutely unheard-of honor for a young Quidditch player. Draco had followed Krum with interest, even getting his father to hire someone to use Omnioculars at Krum's matches so that he could see the seeker in action via the glass box.

"Hello, Draco," said his idol in an accented but very passable English "Your mother has asked me to come and work with you for a few weeks. You are a seeker too, yes?" Draco nodded faintly, still shocked that Krum was here in his lounge talking to him "In exchange, your mother has agreed to introduce me to Severus Snape, the potions master. I very much admire his work in the field of arcane physics as it relates to the use of dried vampire venom." Draco blinked. Despite his slow deliberate way of speaking (which was probably due in part to Krum's desire not to garble his English) Krum was apparently _very_ intelligent. Krum appeared to be waiting for Draco's response, and when none was forthcoming, Draco's mother stepped in.

"I'm sure Draco's very excited to be working with you. He's had a long morning with Quidditch practice already, so perhaps today's not the best day to start practicing-"

"No! Erm, I mean, I feel fine, mother, and I would like to start working with you Mr. Krum, sir." Draco trailed off, noticing the grin on Krum's face.

"You, my young friend, can call me Viktor. No need to call me Sir, either. And yes, if you would like, we can begin right away" Krum rose from the couch. "Perhaps you could show me where to find a broom? This is the most elaborate broom shed I've ever seen!"

* * *

Tired, but happy, Draco lay on his back in the soft grass of the back lawn. His favorite thing to do on a summer evening at the Manor was lying down and watching the stars. He knew that it was a Black family tradition to name children after stars, and it was and easy compromise for his mother and father, as Draco was not only a star, but a traditional Malfoy name. Had there been no such overlap, Draco didn't know who would have won, his father for his belief that he was the leader of the family, or his mother, for her certainty that she lead her husband. Draco heard the crack of apparition as his mother and Krum went to visit Severus, then the silence that ensued, broken only by the crickets and the far off summer thunderstorms.

Draco thought back over the past two weeks. He had had a fantastic time with Krum, working on techniques that would surely help him in his tryout for the Slytherin House team. Draco knew that he was no match for Krum, even Krum at age 11, because there are some people for whom flying comes more naturally than breathing, but Draco was satisfied that he could beat anyone at finding the snitch, except, perhaps, for Harry. After the grueling schedule of the past two weeks, it was odd for Draco to realize that he would have a whole two days to himself for Midsummer. Krum was going back to Bulgaria, and his team was taking a break for the Midsummer festivities. It was an old pureblood tradition to hold galas in honor of Midsummer, and the purebloods stuck to this tradition long after the meaning of the galas was forgotten (they theorized the celebrations were in honor of the rituals performed on the longest day, but no one was truly certain anymore.)

As Draco stared up into the sky, he felt utterly at peace. For now, all thoughts of anything unrelated to Quidditch and the Midsummer gala were pushed from his mind, and he was able to relax within his own mind in a way he hadn't been able to for nearly a year, ever since he met Harry at the robe shop. Draco realized his eyes were starting to droop. Not wanting to fall asleep outside (the last time he did this, his mother had teased him mercilessly for ages) Draco made his way inside and to his bed. He saw his clothes for the ball (traditional robes in a deep shade of green that complimented his pale coloring) laid out on his chair. Dobby must have delivered them while Draco was out stargazing. Draco went through his evening routine, bathing, and using the mouth cleaning potion before changing into his pajamas. Before going to sleep, Draco spotted his school trunk. Remembering suddenly, Draco pulled out Thunder's gift, and allowed the silver dragon to curl around his arm (much the same as an armband tattoo). Oddly comforted, Draco climbed into his bed and fell quickly asleep.

* * *

"Oh I don't believe this. You're having a lie in? Wake up!" Draco barely registered the words before a slender body jumped on him "Draco! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! C'mon Blaise, help me! Wake up! Wake up!" Draco cracked an eye to see Daphne perched on his stomach chanting. She pulled Blaise onto the bed and the two of them began bouncing in an effort to disturb Draco's sleep enough to rouse him. Blaise accidently knocked Daphne who fell gracefully over Draco. Her grace contrasted with her ungraceful "Oomph!" as she connected with Draco's elbow. Draco gave up the pretense of sleeping to make sure she was okay. Slightly winded, Daphne smiled at him before placing a kiss on his forehead "Hello! I've missed you!"

The three friends sat in Draco's messy bed talking about their weeks. Blaise and Daphne didn't follow amateur Quidditch (and Daphne didn't follow foreign Quidditch) so they were only mildly impressed that Krum had been giving Draco pointers. Draco listened as Daphne detailed her time in Germany with her father (who had an "unorthodox" approach to money for a pureblood…he earned it!) who was covering German pureblood culture in a report for the Wizarding Wireless Network. Daphne got to be a junior correspondent with her father, Altair Greengrass (whose mother had been a Black, hence his first name). Perhaps it was because her father was a radio correspondent, or perhaps it was just her nature, but Daphne was always very well spoken, and able to turn the simplest story into an epic tale that enthralled the listeners. Draco found himself holding his breath when Daphne described the German High Warlock, who hadn't taken the documentation of his culture very kindly. It was a tribute to Altair Greengrass' talent as a wizard and an orator that they left Germany in one piece, memories intact (according to Daphne, the High Warlock wanted to obliviate her and her father).

Blaise's summer, according to the boy, was uneventful thus far. He mentioned that he'd spent a lot of time indoors after Quidditch practice, studying for the upcoming school year. He admitted that he'd done all his homework, and was now just studying for the fun of it. Daphne giggled and told Draco that she was convinced that Blaise was going to try to show off in classes for some girl. Draco glanced at Blaise, and his furious blush told Draco that Daphne hadn't been far off with her teasing. Draco filed that bit of information away for later questioning.

Their silly ramblings were interrupted by a gentle clearing of the throat. Draco's mother stood in the doorway in a lovely but simple under robe. "I thought you children arrived early to help me set up, not sit on my son like he's some sort of lounge chair!" Her smile proved she was only joking, but Daphne scrambled off Draco's stomach, knocking Blaise off the bed. "My dear," said Narcissa gently "You are so graceful in your movements, it is difficult to remember your tendency for tripping over your own feet, and knocking everyone else off theirs!" The two boys howled with laughter, and Daphne grinned cheerfully "Thanks, Mrs. Malfoy. Most people just say I'm clumsy, and don't even mention the 'gracefulness' that I picked up at WANDS' dance class" she said, referring back to the pureblood primary school.

Draco climbed out of bed while his mother asked his friends about their summer. He went into the bathroom and quickly dressed in a simple outfit. He would change into his robes later on, but for now, he needed clothes he could move around in. He had agreed to help his mother set up for the gala that evening, mostly because she said she'd get special permission from the ministry for Draco, Blaise, and Daphne to use magic, just for that afternoon.

When he exited the bathroom, his mother and his friends were still making small talk. Draco knew his mother liked Daphne despite the fact that she'd never been on their "approved" list of friends (because of her father's notions about actually earning money rather than simply spending it for influence). Daphne was well educated and fiercely loyal to Draco, and to a lesser degree, to Blaise (she called them "her boys"). She was the oldest of the bunch, having turned 12 in February (Blaise a close second with his March birthday…he trained with the eleven and unders for Quidditch, but didn't play because he was already 12. Draco couldn't understand why Blaise chose to train with a team he couldn't play with, but Blaise insisted that he was tired of Quidditch, and only played to have a chance to be with Draco).

The group exited Draco's bedroom and made their way to the Grand Hallway, the site of the Midsummer gala for as long as the gala had been held. The manor was ever changing, with additions and renovations, but the Grand Hallway was special. It was built by the ancestor of the architect who built Hogwarts for the four founders, and was the oldest surviving structure in all of Europe. The Grand Hallway was used only for the gala, due partly to tradition and partly to superstition. No one knew what would happen if there were events to occur in the Grand Hallway during "normal" times, but no one had ever dared try it.

The spells Draco, Blaise, and Daphne used were rudimentary, but it felt good to use magic, almost like scratching an itch. The three did their best to follow Narcissa's instructions, and within a few hours, the magnificent room was completely ready for guests. Nobby (Narcissa's personal house elf, the way Lobby was Lucius' and Dobby was Draco's) lead the elves in preparing a fantastic feast rivaled only by the Hogwarts welcoming feast. All the purebloods sent a few house elves to assist in the preparation of the banquet, so there wouldn't be too much strain on the Malfoy house elves. Narcissa performed a quick spell to learn the time (#575…that same great great whatever uncle felt that clocks would remind the guests in the manor that there were places to go and things to see, so he outlawed them in the public rooms…sometimes the rules really did make life difficult!) and sent the children off to Draco's room to change for the gala.

* * *

Draco glanced in the mirror one last time. Not one hair was out of place. Draco noticed that he was higher up in the mirror than he used to be. He was beginning to grow, which was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because a lofty stature would give Draco a natural advantage over people by allowing him to tower over them. A curse because if he grew too much, he would be like the youngest Weasley, ungainly, ungraceful, and un-seeker-able. Draco turned, and saw that Blaise and Daphne had long since given up waiting patiently for him, and had pulled out Draco's chess set. Just as Draco made his way to them, Daphne let out a triumphant "Checkmate!" and Blaise groaned…he hadn't seen it coming. Daphne was wearing deep purple robes, with matching amethyst earrings, while Blaise wore a rich blue garment. The three of them made their way to the Grand Hallway, where the gala was already in full swing. Because they weren't of age, the festivities for them ended at 10 o'clock, so the trio planned to take advantage of the party while they could.

Just as Draco reached the tables where the sumptuous feast lay, he heard "Oh Draco! You look so handsome!" He turned to see Pansy (in a rather sickening shade of red that would have suited someone much older, but somehow seemed offensive on her) making her way toward him. She turned "And Blaise and Daphne. You look, erm, okay." Daphne smothered a giggle at the confused look the boys gave Pansy. The four of them made their way to a table, where they talked of their summers, their vacations, and their parents before talk turned to the upcoming school year.

"I personally cannot wait for school to start again," said Draco, reaching for his water glass. "I mean, we're going to be starting the interesting subjects and all, and that'll be alright, but the best part is—"

"That now that you're a second year you can try out for the house team and it'll be so cool because then your father will buy you a new broom," chorused Daphne and Blaise before breaking out into laughter. "Dray, we've heard it a thousand times" said Daphne gently.

"Then what are you so excited for?" asked Draco, overlooking the nickname. It seemed that Daphne was the only person who could mutilate his name and get away with it. Daphne looked at him like he was crazy.

"Herbology, of course! We're going to go into the dangerous greenhouses this year! They've got all sorts of interesting plants, like the mandrake, or the venomous tentactula! Professor Sprout said she might even teach us about the whomping willow!" Daphne grinned manically. For some reason, dangerous plants appealed to Daphne the way dangerous creatures appealed to Hagrid.

"Forget silly leafy things," cut in Pansy "What I really want this year is a boyfriend! I went all last year without one, even though that silly Millicent Bulstrode had one, and she's the ugliest Slytherin I know!" Pansy looked at Draco for a long minute "What I really need is someone handsome and high ranking to be my boyfriend" She blinked in Draco's direction, sending him looks that made him plainly uncomfortable.

Blaise laughed at Draco's discomfort. "This year is going to be great! Like you said about the harder classes, they're going to be neat! I can't wait for things to really get going, especially because I'm going to study with Her—erm…gack" Blaise pretended to choke on his filet mignon coughing violently in an attempt to change the topic. Draco already had his suspicions about Blaise's intended study partner, but didn't say anything. He allowed the conversation to steer its way to last year's classes. As they continued to talk, Pansy's mother came over and pulled her ever so politely toward a table with an eligible young prince from Sweden (with whom the Parkinsons were trying to ingratiate themselves). Just after Pansy left, Daphne turned to Draco and said "So what'd you think of, erm Quirrell?"

"Well, he was a crap teacher…" said Draco cautiously, not wanting to say something wrong and offend either his parents or his friends.

"No, I mean, what do you think of the whole situation? With, well, HIM and everything?" Daphne looked nervous; as though she wasn't sure she was going to like the answer to her question

"Honestly?" said Blaise slowly, as though he were choosing his words carefully "I'm not sure how to feel about it."

"I don't know that I like the possession thing" said Draco slowly, realizing his friends might, just might, feel the same as he did about 'the CEO.' Draco hadn't fully formed his opinion, but he wasn't sure he liked the company policies.

"I definitely didn't like the possession of a teacher, or the attempts to kill a student" said Daphne softly, smiling "am I right to believe you two feel the same as I do on this situation?" the two boys nodded, and all smiled furtively at one another. None had to worry about the others telling their parents about what had just happened. The group was united, in more ways than one.

At 9:45, the music began to play. Draco stood and asked Daphne to dance with exaggeratedly gallant motions. She giggled and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. They whirled expertly around the floor, showing off the moves honed through years of practicing and tutelage. As the song drew to a close, the pair realized it was nearly time to leave. As they made their way toward their table, Draco stopped suddenly. "You go ahead, Daph," said Draco, "I just want to tell my parents Happy Midsummer before we go upstairs." Daphne nodded and made her way to Blaise, as Draco turned and found his parents. As he approached his father, he saw Gregory Nott talking to Lucius. When Draco got closer, he could hear what was being said. His stomach dropped.

"—and as I've been trying to tell him, the obsession with the Potter boy is unhealthy. He needs to learn that such things will be frowned upon by our community." Gregory noticed Lucius looking over Draco's shoulder and turned "Oh, hello! Didn't see you there! Care to join the conversation? I was just telling your father all about your silly little obsession with Harry Potter."

* * *

Well...longest chapter! Do you think it was a success? Review! My next chapter looks like it will be even longer...provided I get reviews to motivate me :)

C


	10. Chapter 10

Draco paled slightly. Only his training as a Malfoy heir kept him from losing his composure. His father noticed this, and raised an eyebrow. What this meant, Draco couldn't fathom. The only reassurance Draco had was the fact that Malfoys did not have "scenes" with their offspring in public. Malfoys always presented a unified front. Lucius pursed his lips in thought at Draco, then made a split second decision, turning to Gregory.

"Mr. Nott, I don't know who you are referring to, but I am convinced it is not my son. As I recall, both you and your younger brother Theodore are prone to…stretching the truth. Perhaps you remember that disgraceful incident in which you tried to impress a muggle girl by detailing exactly how magic worked…as I seem to recall, you tried to convince your father that you were simply trying to terrorize the girl. Your father may have believed this, but I do not, especially after I've seen you with that same girl upon several occasions engaged in, rather amorous activities. I am well aware that you are envious of my son for his prestige and the respect he commands. Rather than attempting to jeopardize his position as the most respected pureblood heir, you should learn from him. Draco studies hard, and is careful to uphold the Malfoy Code. He wouldn't associate with someone unless it was beneficial to the family in some way. Perhaps you could learn from my son, and keep away from Muggle girls, and from these appalling lies." Lucius turned his back on the elder Nott brother in a clear dismissal. To Draco, he said "I assume since it is nearly ten o'clock that you wish to bid me goodnight?" at Draco's nod, Lucius smiled "Very well. Good Night, Draco. I see your mother is looking for you. If you hurry, you can wish her good night as well."

Draco hurried off to find his mother. After kissing her cheek, he made his way out of the room. As he neared the doorway, he saw the massive forms of Crabbe and Goyle senior beginning to push the heavy oak doors of the Hall closed. He ran to make it, and was almost closed in. However, a final burst of speed allowed him to rush through before the doors closed. Knowing what went on behind those closed doors was a privilege a young witch or wizard gained upon coming of age, as the closed doors brought to mind secret rituals and fantastic ceremonies. Draco pressed his ear to the door. In the room, the noise at times became overwhelming. Listening at the door, however, suggested the room was empty. Realizing that there was truly no way to figure out what the adults were up to, Draco made his way quickly to his room, where Blaise and Daphne were spending the night.

"What took you so long?" cried Daphne as Draco made his way into the room "I've had to put up with _this_ one for way too long! I think I've been losing brain cells by the second!" She stuck her tongue out at Blaise, who threw a pillow at her. The pillow flew past her head, and thumped Draco's chest. Draco arched an eyebrow. "Are you children finished?" He demanded "Some of us have things to do. Sleep, perhaps?" Daphne groaned.

"Oh don't get all 'I'm a Malfoy which means I can't pal around with my best friends' with me, buster! I'll have you know I had to get special permission from my mother to get to stay here overnight. My father might not care about the pureblood rituals, but my mother certainly does! I don't plan to sleep a wink this whole evening, because this might be the last time I'm with my friends until I get back to Hogwarts. I love my mother and all, but that much togetherness just makes me shudder. I don't know what I'd have done if Father hadn't taken me to Germany with him!"

"Died, probably," muttered Blaise "and what a pity that would've been" Daphne turned a murderous glare on Blaise, who quickly added "Kidding! Kidding! Geez, Daph, can't you take a joke?"

"Daph-NEE" enunciated Daphne primly "My name is Daphne Greengrass, so none of your nonsense about 'Daph' thanks." Blaise scowled.

"Why doesn't Draco get that little speech? And come to think of it, why do you get to call him Dray? I get a load of drivel every time I try to give him a nickname!" He frowned "and don't you start thinking you get to call me 'Blay" or something equally ridiculous. Blaise isn't hard to say, and thus counts as a nickname in and of itself."

Draco and Daphne looked at Blaise as if he had two heads. "And don't look at me like that, either!" cried Blaise, "It's bad enough you two are so chummy, now you have to rub my nose in it by acting eerily similar!" Daphne and Draco looked at one another, and in perfect synch, turned their gazes back to Blaise. "So?" They chorused. Blaise jumped up and ran screaming from the room.

"What a silly boy," said Daphne calmly. "You'd think he'd never met twin Souls before." She giggled "He's probably never heard of them, either." Draco frowned.

"No offense, Daph, but I'll only ever think of you as a sister, not, you know, in a cooties kind of way." Daphne giggled "A cooties way? Like as a girlfriend? Eeww…Draco, don't you know what twin souls are?" at his frown, she continued "This is part of what my father was studying while in Germany. The German purebloods are big believers in the concept of twin souls. Probably the best way for me to explain this is for me to start in the beginning.

"You've obviously heard of soul mates, right? Well, for every soul, there is a soul mate. Somewhere out in the world is a person with a soul that is almost the opposite to yours, the 'yin' to your 'yang' so to speak. Some are lucky enough to find their soul mates, some aren't. Even if you don't find your soul mate, you sometimes find someone who's soul fits _almost_ as perfectly, and you can live your life with that person completely happy. Just, you know, not as happy as if you'd found your real soul mate.

"Anyways, for a fairly select few, there are also (in addition to soul mates) twin souls. Twin souls exactly match. Sometimes, the twin souls are born as actual twins, like the Patils, or those dreadful Weasels (Gred and Forge, or whatever). Other times, as I suspect it is with us, the twin souls are born at the exact same time in different families. As with soul mates, if you don't meet your twin soul, you can live a very happy life. However, a twin soul can become a very close friend, like we are now. I would go as far as to say that you're my best friend. I don't know for sure that we're twin souls, but after the research my father did in Germany, I definitely suspect that that is the case with us." She took a deep breath. "Did all that make sense to you?"

Draco was silent for a few minutes, thinking. "Yeah, I guess so. Does this mean you'd be attracted to MY soul mate, and vice versa?" Daphne looked surprised.

"I'd never thought of that. I'm sure not. I think there'd be some physical factor, like maybe I prefer blondes, and you prefer brunettes, which is why we wouldn't go for the same 'soul' despite the soul being a theoretical match. I don't really know, though. I'll have to ask my father." She frowned in thought for a second, before her visage relaxed and she smiled at him, shyly "You wouldn't mind if we were twin souls?"

"Why would I mind? I can't think of anyone I'd rather be a twin with!" Draco smiled at her insecurity. He knew the girl sometimes felt a little left out when he was with Blaise, because the two boys had been friends for much longer than Draco had even known Daphne. "So how do we figure out for certain if we are twin souls?"

"Well," said Daphne, "There are certain things. For one, we share some mannerisms, and we seem to think about things the same way. Something we can try is, erm, this ritual the Germans do. It's slightly barbaric, and it could be Dark Magic, but…" she trailed off.

"Go on…at least tell me what it is!" implored Draco impatiently.

"Well, it's really really simple. All you have to do is slice your left palms, and hold them together. If, after the ritual, you have a heightened awareness of the other, then you really are twin souls. However, though the ritual is specific enough, the results are rather vague. I don't know what would happen if we weren't twins, and I don't know how strong our "heightened awarenesses" of one another would be."

Draco thought for a minute "Well, if we were to do this ritual, tonight would be a good time. I mean, it's midsummer, so it's the perfect night for magic. We're in a house full of adult wizards, so it's unlikely the Ministry would notice if we accidently used magic or something, and our parents won't see us until tomorrow, which means by then it'd be too late to stop us, and we'd have had a chance to get used to whatever the effects are before we're separated for the rest of the summer." He paused "That is, if you want to."

Daphne didn't hesitate "I want to." She watched as Draco went to his desk and took out a magnificent pocket knife. He rarely used it, so he knew it would be sharp. Best of all, its case was charmed to sterilize the knife as it was pulled from the holder. He made his way back to the bed where Daphne sat, looking nervous, but excited. "Are you ready?" Draco asked, looking into her eyes to make sure that she was absolutely prepared.

"I think so," replied Daphne, eyeing the knife a bit nervously. "I remember that I'm going to have to slice your palm, and you're going to have to slice mine. Do you want to go first, or second?" Draco thought for a second. If he sliced her palm first, she'd have to endure the pain while she cut his palm. "I'll let you cut my palm first" he decided. He held out his hand, determined not to let it shake and betray his nervousness. Daphne took his left hand and gently turned it palm side up. She lay the hand in her lap while she unsheathed the knife. She then took a hold of his hand again, and carefully cut a three inch diagonal line from his pointer finger to the heel of his palm. As his cut began to bleed, Draco took her hand, and mimicked the slice on her soft palm, wincing at the pain he knew he was causing her. Quickly, they pressed their palms together. A blinding flash ensued, and the two blacked out.

* * *

"Draco? Your house is humongous! I got lost on the way to the kitchens, and wandered around until I stumbled upon Dobby who—Draco? Daphne?" Blaise rushed over to his friends' unconscious forms. He paled when he saw a bloody knife beside Draco's bed, but a quick check showed no blood on either of the young mages. He noticed, however, identical scars on the pair's palms. Blaise didn't know what to make of this, and was about to panic, when Draco said sleepily "Food." Daphne rolled over, and would have fallen off the bed had Draco (without rousing from his stupor) not shot out his arm to keep her from rolling off. Daphne sat up.

"Oh, hello Blaise. Did you say you were in the kitchens? Did you bring back food? No? Will you go get food? Please?" For some reason, Blaise couldn't think of a single reason to say no to the sleepy witch, and made his way back to the door. He called for Dobby, and asked for some food from the banquet. Dobby disappeared with a crack. When Blaise turned back around, Draco was checking Daphne over. For reasons beyond Blaise's comprehension, this annoyed him immensely. Blaise wrote off these bizarre emotions as simple jealousy. He was simply jealous that Draco had another friend upon whom he could rely as much as on Blaise.

On the bed, Draco couldn't believe the situation. He realized that the moment of their bonding (which was the only thing he could think to call what had just happened) was at the stroke of midnight. Blaise hadn't returned until around two o'clock (he must have been dreadfully lost) which means the pair had been unconscious for two hours. Draco had already checked, and noticed that his cut was now a scar, and didn't hurt. Luckily, the scar was extremely flexible, and didn't hinder the use of his left hand at all. Draco checked Daphne over to see if there was anything different about her. He noticed no immediate changes about the girl—the same deep blue eyes and golden brown hair that he had always associated with her. Daphne met his eyes, and he noticed that her eyes had silver flecks he'd never noticed before. Daphne's eyes narrowed.

"You have blue flecks in your eyes…have you always had blue flecks?" she sounded perplexed. _This must be a part of the ritual, or something. I'll have to ask my father._

"I haven't, but that's a good idea," said Draco "You ask your father, and tell me what he says. You have silver flecks in your eyes." Daphne stared at him wide eyed "What?" Draco almost snapped. _I hate when people look at me like I'm crazy._

"Draco, I didn't say anything about asking my father, that's why I'm looking at you like you're crazy. I'm sorry, I didn't realize you hated it so much." It was Draco's turn to stare.

"Umm, just so you know, I feel like a total third wheel…and the food's here" cut in Blaise. "What's going on, exactly?"

"We're hearing one another's thoughts" said Draco baldly "We're twin souls, and we performed a ritual bonding us in blood as well as spirit." Daphne sent a reproving glance at Draco. _Did you have to say it like that? Draco, the poor boy has no context for understanding what you're saying!_

_ Why don't you explain it to him, then! You did a fine job with me…_ Draco thought back.

"Fine, I will!" Daphne shot at Draco. She turned to Blaise. Why don't I explain this to you while we're eating?

* * *

As it turned out, it was a good thing Draco and Daphne bonded when they did. The next morning, the two presented themselves to Daphne's father and explained what they had done. The man was surprised, because he'd never heard of non-sibling twin souls meeting so young. He explained to them the difficulties arising from twin bonding—the fact that your twin could hear your thoughts, the fact that when one twin felt pain, the other felt it as well, and so on. He recommended several books for Draco to study over the summer so that the bond could be controlled. According to Daphne's father, with practice, a twin bond would could be "opened" or "shut" depending on the situation. For now, he said, it was a good thing for both their sakes that they would be many miles apart, diluting the bond for the summer, as close proximity in untrained wizards so soon after a bonding would lead to absolutely no privacy for both parties.

The guests departed from the gala in a steady stream that only tapered off mid morning. Draco's parents immediately went into their bedroom to catch up on their sleep, leaving the house elves to do the clean up (while it was traditional for the Malfoy Matriarch to set up for the gala, there were no tradition regarding the cleanup). Draco was left on his own for several hours, during which he worked on homework, and, when that got boring, started reading the books Mr. Greengrass had recommended. When early evening arrived and there was still no sign of Draco's parents, he made his way to the broom shed. Draco quickly pulled out an old broom and began flying around the estate, swooping and spinning. It was the first time all summer he'd flown simply for the pleasure of it, instead of for Quidditch training. He flipped a switch on the side of the shed, and a series of enchanted rings appeared all around the estate. His father had set the enchantment so that Draco could earn pocket money directly relating to how quickly he completed the course. This was, of course, a father's way of making sure Draco kept up his speed and maneuverability for Quidditch season.

Every time Draco set a new time, the enchantment told his father, who then gave Draco 10 galleons. As Draco got older, beating the best time got harder. Last summer, Draco had only set a new record three times. This summer, his father had added rings, and told Draco he would earn 20 galleons for every new best time. Draco flew around the estate for two hours, but he was still three tenths of a second away from setting a new record. He returned to the shed, cleaned and polished the broom, then showered before heading back up to the Manor. He arrived just as his parents made their way downstairs for dinner. The three sat at the dinner table in relative silence, enjoying the quiet after a night of revelry and excitement. After the dessert had finished (a fresh raspberry sorbet in delicate chocolate goblets), Narcissa rose from the table to go write letters thanking her guests for the previous evening. As Draco rose to try to sneak off to his room, Lucius stood, saying "I think we have some things to discuss, Draco. Would my study be a suitable location for our conversation?" It was not a request.

* * *

Draco sat nervously in a leather armchair across from his father. Between them lay the Malfoy chess set, the most opulent chess set in the world. Each piece was set with precious stones, and each square of the board was worth more than the Greengrass household (although Draco would never tell Daphne this). The Chess set had been a gift to the Malfoy family from Merlin himself (or so the Malfoys told their guests). Chess was an important game for the Malfoy family for the strategy and tactical skills it imparted on the players. This chess set, unlike the current wizarding chess sets, did not employ the barbaric tactics of smashing the opponent's pieces. Instead, when a piece was taken, the piece melted into the board itself. Each time the board reset, the pieces were slightly different, another reason the Malfoy chess set was unique in all the world.

As the game went on, Lucius showed no signs of beginning the conversation. It was only as his Bishop took Draco's Queen that Lucius spoke for the first time since the game began. "Draco, I would like to know the truth behind Gregory Nott's rumor mongering. As I've taught you, even the wildest falsehoods begin with a grain of truth." Lucius looked at Draco with neutrality. The fact that his father's face did not display outright anger gave Draco the courage to reply.

"I met Harry Potter for the first time before I even knew who he was," he began, "and he fascinated me." Draco waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, he continued "I mean, he was the first person I'd ever met without you meeting him or her first and approving as a worthy ally or friend, so I thought I'd try to make a friend on my own. I didn't know who he was, because I had no idea what he looked like. I couldn't see his scar, and as you know, he isn't a topic of discussion at our house." Again, Draco waited for a reaction. "I tried to talk to him in the shop, but it seemed like everything I wanted to say came out wrong and made him like me less. This made me want to prove to him that I was a good person to get to know, so I spent the summer imagining how I would talk with him, and befriend him, and eventually, he became part of my consciousness. To this day, I think of him almost daily in some capacity or another."

"Your first interaction was innocent, I'll warrant," spoke Lucius after a few seconds' silence. "How do you explain the fact that Nott seemed to think you have an ongoing obsession with the boy? As soon as you realized who he was, you should have ended anything but a polite disinterest in him. Why did this not happen?" Draco ducked his head, in shame, and in an effort to gain a few seconds for contemplation.

"I cannot explain it, Father. I know this will displease you, but when I saw him sitting on the train with that Weasel, I couldn't stand it. I don't know why, but every day I resist the urge to go up to him and try to befriend him. I try to avoid him as much as possible, and I attempted the polite disinterest, but I am too invested in him. Rather than coolly disinterested, I am almost antagonistic of him. Not on purpose, though. I really cannot explain it, Father. I apologize. I did try to avoid him. I do try to avoid him. By not getting to know his personality, I hope I am safe from the compulsion to be his best friend. I hope _we_, as Malfoys, are safe from the compulsion." Draco looked up from his hands, which he had been observing closely throughout his monologue. His father's face was inscrutable.

"I suppose I cannot truly fault you for that, Draco. I felt the same way about a girl I'd met in Flourish and Blotts, though I wouldn't admit it to her or myself until years later. I just wish you'd met someone else that day, I suppose. Then this wouldn't be an issue. Checkmate" The chess pieces disappeared into the board. "Would you like to play again?" Draco nodded, overcome with relief that his father wasn't angry. The pieces reassembled themselves. His father's pieces, according to tradition, had many more gems than Draco's did. The board always placed more stones on the winner's pieces, and the goal was to eventually strip the opponent of all gems. However, Draco was becoming increasingly good at strategy, so this feat was rather harder for his father than when Draco was younger.

"Tell me," said Lucius, moving a pawn, "How was that ridiculous assignment Severus told me about, with the pen pals?" Draco surveyed the board, weighing the benefits of moving his bishop _there_ versus moving his pawn there.

"It was fine. I really liked my pen pal, and it was someone with whom I could definitely see myself being good friends. However, he freaked out when I suggested we meet, and he didn't want to tell me his name. His pen name was thunder, though. I really liked him. I was really disappointed he didn't write me a final letter. I still wonder why he didn't. And why he would send Harry—I mean, Potter—over with the Dragon for me. It was all rather confusing, really." Draco moved a piece before continuing "Did I ever show you the dragon?" He pulled up his sleeve and showed the small dragon curled around his arm, above his elbow. His father regarded it for a moment.

"So what did you and 'Thunder' talk about?" His rook took a pawn.

"Oh, nothing. Everything. We'd ask each other about homework. We'd talk about the Quidditch matches. The importance of family. Hogwarts gossip. Goals. Everything." Draco sighed. "Gods, I miss talking to him. I just wish I knew who he was so that I could be proper friends with him."

"So," said Lucius, considering his next move "His personality is as important to you as the mysterious robe shop figure? Am I interpreting this correctly?"

"No." Draco watched as his father put him in check "I'm much more invested in 'Thunder' I think. I'm not so shallow that I'd value someone's potential over someone's proven personality." Draco made his move and the game progressed. After Draco checkmated his father, Lucius waved his hand, and the chess set floated to the corner of the room, where it gently landed on its pedestal to await the next game.

"I'm glad we had this conversation. I feel you displayed a level of maturity befitting the Malfoy name despite your unfortunate obsession with Potter. My counsel is that you continue to act as you have acted, or if you can manage it, to be even more discrete with your 'fascination.' I do not mind your admiration of the boy, as long as you do not overtly sympathize with him. Do you understand? Another Gregory Nott type accusation, and I will not be nearly as understanding."

"Yes, father. Thank you." Draco stood, recognizing from his father's demeanor that it was time to leave. After wishing his father good night, Draco made his way to his room, where giddy with relief, he did a little dance around his room. Minutes later, an owl arrived at his window. Draco untied the letter, and read:

_

* * *

Dray,_

_I'm very glad I'm not at your house, as first your nervousness and now your giddy relief is overwhelming, given the distance between our homes. My mother looked at me very oddly when, in the middle of her tale of a tragic occurrence in Dublin (where her cousin splinched himself trying to apparate, and is unable to be put back together) I jumped up and did a dance around the room, laughing wildly. Father had to explain the situation to keep her from sending me to my room! While I'm very glad you're happy, do you mind, erm, toning it down a tad? Perhaps you should work on the exercises described in the book father lent you? Thanks._

_All my love,_

_Daph_

_PS-Shall we meet up in a few weeks to do our school shopping? My father said he could take us._

_

* * *

Daph-_

_Sounds lovely_

_~Dray_

* * *

"Dray!" Daphne's delighted cry rang throughout the manor "Dray, where are you?"

Draco rushed out of his room. He knew from the book that the bond made him feel incredibly lonely when his twin was away from his side for an extended period of time, but he'd never missed someone so desperately in his life. He met Daphne in the hallways, and she jumped into his arms "I've missed you, Dray! I'm so glad to see you! How've you been?" Draco sighed, content to have his twin by his side again, her presence easing an ache he hadn't known existed. "I've missed you, too, Daph. I've been rather lonely. At least you have your younger sister to keep you company. I have no one but my parents and Dobby." Daphne squeezed her arms around him. "Don't be silly, Astoria is marvelous, but she simply isn't my twin!" She let go of her bear hug, but grabbed his hand and dragged him down the stairs "I can tell you've been practicing your shields…good for you! I've been working on it as well. I think when we're back at school we should practice telepathic communication. It should be fun talking about everyone without them knowing what we're talking about!"

Daphne's father heard the last comment, and laughed "Always up to trouble, my Daphne. Hello Draco! How've you been keeping yourself?" He smiled jovially. It was hard not to like Daphne's father.

"I've been well, sir. I've missed Daphne like crazy, but as that book says, that's totally normal for a twin bond." Draco smiled at Daphne. How he'd missed the fact that they were much closer even than normal siblings was beyond him. He was lucky his twin was such a smart witch.

"Of course, of course!" Daphne's father replied. "Well, shall we be off?" Daphne took his arm, and Draco grabbed his shoulder. It was no mean feat to side-along apparate two passengers, but Altair Greengrass was a powerful wizard, and managed it with ease. He tapped the bricks to let them into Diagon Alley. "Now, I'm going to let you do your shopping on your own, but do me a favor and stick together. I don't want either of you getting lost, okay? Mr. Malfoy's going to be along in a little bit, and I want him to be able to find you quickly." With that, Altair strode off down Diagon Alley toward the Wizarding Wireless Network station.

"Come on!" cried Daphne, dragging Draco toward a store specializing in Potions (Ye Olde Potions Place est. 1974…yes, the name was corny, but the potions were top notch). There, Daphne examined the wares. She decided on a potion that turned the drinker's hair purple (good for two weeks), a potion to keep you up all night (for studying, she said), and a potion that made your hair sleek and shiny (she said the humidity after the rain gave her frizzy hair). Draco simply purchased a potions book with a wide variety of recipes in it. He never knew what would come in handy during the school year.

Their next stop was the Quidditch supply store. Draco spotted the newest broom, the Nimbus 2001, which excited him to no end. He was even more determined to get on the Slytherin House team if it meant he could have that magnificent broom at school. He wound up purchasing some new gloves (his old ones had gotten rather ragged) and a practice snitch (which could be accioed if he needed to leave practice before he'd found the snitch). Daphne was rather bored by this, but she did purchase a Slytherin pennant and a button for her robes during the school matches. Upon exiting the store, Draco spotted his father. The two made their way over to Lucius. Daphne realized upon arriving that she'd left her bag of potions in the Quidditch store. The two made arrangements to meet in Flourish and Blotts, and Draco and his father made their way to Knockturn Alley. Draco always accompanied his father on these less than savory trips because his father felt it would do Draco well to begin to learn how to command the lesser Dark Wizards. As they neared the entrance to Knockturn Alley, Draco saw the Weasel talking to his mother frantically. He overheard part of their conversation as they walked by.

"And, you know, if anyone sees Harry, they're going to associate him with me. You know, I reckon I'll have a chance of being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, just because I'm friends with Harry, and he's so good at Quidditch. Maybe I'll get to use Harry's Nimbus, too! I'm sure he can buy a new one…" The conversation became muffled as the group made their way away from the Malfoys. The Weasel's comments, however, left Draco feeling thoroughly put out.

When they arrived at Borgin and Burke's, Lucius turned to Draco. "If you behave and pay attention to what I do today, I'll buy you a present, alright? I know this isn't really what you want to be doing today, so that's how I'll make it up to you." Draco agreed, but was distracted by the sight of familiar black hair. _Was that…?_

_Was that who?_ Came Daphne's thoughts

_ No one_ thought back Draco _Sorry for thinking that at you_

As they entered the shop, Draco began looking around. As he reached for something, his father turned "Touch nothing, Draco."

Draco frowned "I thought you were going to buy me a present." He replied, hating that he sounded like a spoiled four year old.

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," his father replied, obviously referencing their conversations of last year.

"If I make the house team" said Draco, a bit nervously. This brought to mind the Weasel's comments about Harry and—wait—Draco was ashamed to admit it, but he had a keen nose. He remembered scents, and associated them with people. Daphne, for example, smelled of vanilla and almonds, his father the metallic scent of money. Harry Potter was unique—a clean, grassy, almost spicy smell that was uniquely Harry. And, if Draco wasn't mistaken, that scent was emanating from the closet. Draco decided to put on a show for his father to prove he could be distant from Harry. He thought for a minute, then began to rant

"Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's _famous_…famous for having a stupid _scar_ on his forehead…everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful _Potter_ with his _scar _and his _broomstick_—" He heard a muffled noise from the cupboard. His father, however, decided not to play along (granted, he didn't know what game Draco was playing, but still).

"You have already told me this. I would remind you that it is not –prudent—to appear less than fond of Harry Potter." Lucius' attention was drawn to Mr. Borgin. As the two began negotiating, Draco made his way around the store, plotting the best way to approach Harry in the cupboard. Should he try to help him escape? Should he ignore him? Eventually, he decided he'd help Harry escape the store, and explain the monologue was for the benefit of any Dark Wizards who could hear his hateful words toward Harry. Unfortunately, as Draco reached for the handle…

"Done," said Lucius at the counter. "Come Draco—" Draco was bitterly disappointed he wouldn't get a chance to see Harry away from the Weasel. He had been too nervous to come up to the cupboard outright and had therefore wasted time wandering the room before he made his way over to Harry's hiding place. Draco was also a bit afraid Harry would hate him for that diatribe. There was nothing he could do about it, however, so Draco simply made his way with his father to Flourish and Blotts.

* * *

At the end of the day, Draco was pleased. He had had a marvelous time with Daphne, and his day was marred by only two things. One was the confusion in Borgin and Burkes. The other was that mysterious little book. He had been sure it wasn't in the littlest Weasel's textbook at first, but after his father had that disgraceful scuffle with the Patriarch Weasel, there was an extra book within the textbook. Draco wasn't sure what to think about that.

Draco called for Dobby, hoping he was there. It was bizarre. Several times throughout the summer, Dobby wouldn't come when called. He'd always show up later, but often with bandaged appendages. Draco had no idea what the elf was up to, and he didn't want to pry into his personal life. Fortunately, Dobby was there, and Draco asked him to get his things packed for Hogwarts.

Only days remained until he was back at the castle. Draco could hardly wait.

* * *

Poor Draco. He can't do anything right when it comes to Harry. Obviously that comes from the second book...when Harry's trapped in the vanishing cupboard in Borgin and Burkes. This is my longest chapter yet. I've been working hard! :)

Please let me know what you think by reviewing. You will have both my gratitude and longer chapters as a reward. :)


	11. Chapter 11

"Draco, darling! I've been quite patient, but if you insist on ignoring Dobby's attempts to wake you, I'm going to have to come in there, and you are NOT going to like it!" Narcissa's voice was muffled by the door to Draco's room. He rolled over and moaned, pulling his pillow over his head. Daphne had been so excited last night that Draco had been unable to fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning. He had just closed his eyes (or so it seemed) when Dobby had come in to try to waken him. Draco figured he had about five minutes before his mother would come in as threatened—as PROMISED (Malfoys don't threaten, they promise, Code #987). He figured wrong. Simultaneously his covers flew off and blinding light filled the room. His mother flicked her wand again and a giant rush of icy water deluged poor Draco.

"I'm up! I'm up!" Draco scrambled out of bed, squinting into the light. What was that on his mother's face? They looked like spectacles, but the lenses were dark…His mother saw his confused look.

"Muggle Sunglasses" She said, by way of explanation. "While lumos totalus is a useful spell for intense light, there's no way to protect the caster's eyes. Well, until I discovered these handy things there wasn't. Your father was less than pleased when I discovered these things. It allows me to use this spell on him in the mornings, too." She smiled serenely at her son, who was gaping at her "Draco, what's the fifth rule of the Code?" He snapped his mouth shut "Thank you, dear. Now, come along. It's well past time for breakfast, and your father would like a word with you before we set off for Hogstail Station. We'll be apparating directly, you and I, so there will be no need to go through King's Cross. I suggest you hurry, darling. You'll want to look your best when you meet up with your classmates." She turned and swept out of the room, leaving behind a flurry of activity as her son struggled to get out of the mass of sheets. "You know, you could help me!" He called after her. Narcissa giggled "But my dear, where's the fun in that?" She flicked her wand anyway, freeing Draco from the cumbersome bedding.

Draco's morning routine had altered slightly from this day, a year ago. Last year, he had simply rolled out of bed, put on suitably expensive clothes, and trusted his self-styling comb to make him presentable. Draco had decided that Daphne was rubbing off on him as he fussed over his toilette 'like a girl.' Draco gave a mental wince as a shriek came over his bond. _Like a GIRL? I'll have you know, Dray, that I NEVER used to spend so much time on my appearance until I bonded with you. NEVER. I thoroughly blame you and your vanity for the fact that I have to get up a full hour earlier every day because of my new obsession with my hair!_ Daphne seemed too irate to continue, because her thoughts suddenly stopped. Draco knew she wouldn't hold a grudge, but he still felt bad that she was getting less sleep because of the bond. He _had_ noticed that as the summer wore on, he had developed more and more traits he had always associated with Daphne. For example, he had developed an affinity for a light shade of purple, a taste for cupcakes, and a fluency in German, among other odd traits.

Draco would never forget the time his mother took him to the store and Draco was trying on robes when Daphne's moral inclination emerged. Draco had suddenly thrown an expensive robe aside because it was made from fabric manufactured by unhappy house elves pressed into the textile industry when their masters had died without bequeathing them to another household. Without a family to serve, the unhappy elves were forced to weave fabrics for unsavory wizards who wished to take advantage of the elves' hardworking natures. Draco had stormed from the store, unaware that he was dressed in only his undergarments and socks. He'd yelled at the top of his lungs about the unfair treatment of the elves, and generally raised a ruckus.

Draco was yanked from his reverie when he realized he had dressed himself on autopilot and was now standing in front of a large mirror. Draco smiled as he began to style his hair. He knew it was rather poncy, but he was utterly obsessed with his hair, for no excusable reason. After about thirty minutes of tinkering, he finally deemed himself prepared for the day. Draco made his way down the wide halls of the Manor to the dining room, where his father and breakfast awaited him. Entering the room, Draco's nose discovered two things. First, the breakfast was a hearty one of eggs, hash, sausages…a basic fry up. Second, Blaise was here somewhere. Draco knew he would never mistake his friend's amusingly girly scent (strawberry!). Draco looked around eagerly. Blaise stepped out from behind a pillar, shaking his head ruefully.

"I knew it was pointless to try and surprise you!" He said, smiling. "I just wanted to meet up with you before we went to the station. I was so ready for today to come! Mum has been 'talking' to a new bloke, some rich wizard from Sweden. The man drives me up the wall! Mum, too, actually. I can tell because she always makes me come to dinners with them. She NEVER does that when she's trying to get a new husband." Blaise grimaced "Just because the guy's rich doesn't mean she needs to marry him. I wish she'd just steal the money. Some of the guys she dates are just ridiculous. Remember the one from Austria? I couldn't understand a word that guy said. He didn't bother to learn English, and his translating spells were rubbish!" Blaise shoved a slice of toast into his mouth. "Oh yeah, and your father said he'd be here in a second"

"Yes, thank you Mr. Zabini." Lucius entered the room holding a large bag. "If you'd excuse us for a minute, I would like to speak privately with my son." Blaise, ever intimidated by Draco's father, scurried out of the room. Lucius turned to Draco and set the bag on the table. "You might as well eat while I tell you about the contents of this bag. You don't have much time." He pulled the tie of the bag. "This is for you to give Miss Greengrass. I did some research into the twin bond. Because you are bonded, her actions represent the Malfoy family just as your actions now represent the Greengrasses. Therefore, I feel it fitting to make sure Miss—Daphne, I suppose, since she practically counts as my daughter, is well equipped to deal with this. In this bag, I have placed some things that should make the transition into honorary Malfoy a bit easier on the girl. Of course, there is the Code, which would take her many years to learn, just as it took you many years. However, because she hasn't had since the age of three to memorize the code, I've placed a spell on the book, much the same as if she were a new Malfoy Bride. We can't expect the ladies to learn the code overnight by simply reading the whole book, therefore we spell the book to enter their minds while they sleep. All she needs to do is place the book under her bed (pillow is preferable, but impractical as the book is several feet thick, as you well know) and speak the incantation, which is inscribed in the front cover."

Lucius pulled several more items from the bag. "Obviously it would be in poor taste to give the girl money, although I dearly wish a representative of the Malfoy family to be better equipped than her family can afford. Therefore, I've created several 'welcome to the family' presents. One is a necklace with the Malfoy crest, along with several family jewels that can only be worn by a young girl…one with her" Lucius actually blushed "_innocence_ intact. I felt it fitting that she should have the jewelry, at least until you are old enough to have a child of your own. Another package has some robes, both casual and formal, with the Malfoy and Greengrass crests intertwined, which is a rather fascinating design. Finally, I've given her a book of infinite knowledge. Obviously, if you need a book, you can purchase it. I suspect her family does not have the same freeness with their galleons, so I've decided to give her this book. Whatever information she needs will be in the book. Therefore, if she needed to access a list of metamorphmaguses in the wizarding community, she need only concentrate on her subject, and the book would provide the information. It's rather ingenious, and you do not need to tell her this, but it cost me a very pretty knut." Draco's mouth dropped open as his father began to repack the valise. His father thought nothing of spending thousands of galleons at a time. For him to recognize that he had spent a "pretty knut" the book must have cost something upwards of tens of thousands of galleons. Draco realized that his father must really think of Daphne as a second child.

"Hello? Are you still in there? Draco?" Blaise burst into the room "Draco your mum says—eep" Draco sniggered as Blaise abruptly stopped talking as he realized Lucius was still in the room "Sir." Blaise gave an odd little bow in Draco's father's direction. Draco turned to his father "I think Blaise must be trying to tell me it's time to get going." His father said nothing, simply held out his hand for Draco to shake. Draco did so, feeling simultaneously pleased that his father offered him his hand like an equal, and disappointed that his father no longer felt a need to give him a hug. Draco shook off the sentimentality of the last feeling, blaming it on Daphne (albeit very very silently, so the witch wouldn't hear that thought).

Draco made his way out to the front entrance with Blaise. His mother was waving her wand at the trunks. With a final flick of her wand, the trunks disappeared. The trunks would have been sent to the Express ahead of them, so the boys need not worry about dealing with their bulky luggage on the crowded platform. Narcissa turned to the boys, and wordlessly offered her arms. Each boy took an arm. Draco knew it took a great deal of strength to double side-along apparate, and appreciated his mother's magical strength. Upon arriving at the platform, Narcissa pulled Draco into a dignified hug. "Write often, my dear. I fear I shall be lonesome with only your father for company" The crinkles at the edges of her eyes belied her words. Draco knew his parents were best friends in addition to being a married couple. With hasty promises to his mother to write often and eat his vegetables, Draco turned to survey the platform. He wouldn't admit, even to himself, who he was truly searching for. As Draco anxiously surveyed the platform (where _was_ he?) he felt Blaise straighten up next to him. Draco glanced over to see his friend straightening his hair with nervous fingers. Draco resumed his scan of the platform when vanilla and almonds overwhelmed his sense of smell. Daphne jumped into Draco's arms and kissed his cheek. _I've missed you so much, brother! I know we only just saw each other, but I feel like each time we're separated it gets harder. Father says it's because we have no soulmate bonds yet. I don't care, I just missed you terribly!_ She beamed at him when Draco impulsively kissed her cheek back. Next to them, Blaise harrumphed "Twin bond my foot! You two might as well start writing your wedding invitations now!" Draco looked into Daphne's eyes _Do YOU want to handle this, or should I? _Daphne smiled slightly _I've got this, Dray_. She looked at Blaise for a second and slid out of Draco's arms. Facing him squarely, she looked slightly taken aback, and seemed momentarily speechless. A questioning look came to her eyes, and she was about to speak when—

"I mean, it's disgusting!" Blaise went on, clearly missing the subtle looks and glances going on as they made their way along platform nine and three-quarters. "You'd think at twelve you'd have more propriety than to go kissing one another on the cheek!" His antagonistic tone made the hackles rise on Draco's neck. He quickly realized that the emotion was coming from Daphne, whose look of confusion had quickly been replaced by anger. "Blaise, I think you're just jealous!" Blaise's eyes became as big as saucers, and he took a step back. "J-Jealous? Wha-Why would you say that?" he stammered. Daphne stuck her nose in the air.

"You just wish that YOU were Draco's twin." With that, she made her way onto the train. Her haughty behavior reminded Draco of his valise of things for Daphne. With an apologetic glance at Blaise, he made his way onto the train after Daphne. Angrily, Blaise strode off in the opposite direction, muttering under his breath.

* * *

-AS A SPECIAL TREAT, BLAISE'S POV-

"Stupid, dumb twin bonds. I don't understand why they think they're so special. I'd bet everyone has a stupid twin, so why do they think they're so special?" so caught up was he in his ranting, that Blaise didn't notice he was being followed until he was yanked into an empty compartment. "Wha—oh, hey Hermione." Blaise looked at his friend noticing tears "What's wrong?" Hermione sniffed. Blaise knew from his time as her penpal, and their time of friendship after they had discovered one another's identities that Hermione was not a girl who cried easily.

Though he had fought it at first, Blaise found himself quickly becoming close to the Gryffindor know-it-all. The pair had been corresponding all summer, and though he was loathe to admit it, Blaise was thrilled to be in her presence again. There was something about Hermione that made Blaise totally at ease. The two were very similar, both in mannerisms and intelligence, though Blaise never flaunted his knowledge the way Hermione seemed to. Hermione gave a great sniff.

"Harry and Ron aren't on the train and I have no idea where they are they could be dead or kidnapped or hurt or something and I wouldn't even know why oh why aren't they on the train? I've searched everywhere and I just can't find them and—" Blaise put his hand over her mouth

"Breath, Hermione. I'm sure they'll be fine. You know I don't like them, but for your sake I'll pretend to be worried" Hermione gave a snort of laughter despite her distress "Listen, it's Harry bleeding Potter. He's not exactly inconspicuous. It would be really hard to kidnap him. Even if he were hurt, someone would have noticed, and there would be whispers all up and down the train. Same for if he was dead. Therefore, he must be doing something stupid, and you'll just have to wait until we get to Hogwarts to discover what exactly the boys have gotten themselves into." Blaise grinned at his teary friend "Feel better?" Hermione gave Blaise a watery grin "I don't know why, but you always make me feel better. I guess I was extremely lucky when we were paired as penpals. Sorry for making you console me about some people you don't really care about." She glanced at the ceiling, obviously (in Blaise's opinion) searching for a change of topic. "So, how was your summer?" the poor girl was obviously oblivious to the fact that 'how his summer had been' tied into his foul mood. Blaise took a deep breath.

"Well, it was mostly good, except for Draco…you know, Malfoy…and Daphne…Greengrass…got bonded." Hermione's look was questioning "Not, you know, soul mate bonding. Twin bonding." Hermione shook her head. "Oh, come on, you must know about it—you're the smartest person I know! Well, a twin bond is like umm, with twins." Blaise really wasn't the best orator, nowhere near as eloquent as Daphne. "Umm, I can't explain it well, but it's really interesting and—" Blaise trailed off as he saw Hermione's eyes light up. He recognized that look, even though he had only known her a short time. There was something for her to research, and there was nothing to keep her from researching it. She practically shooed Blaise out of the compartment in her eagerness to begin to research the different types of bonds.

* * *

-Back to Draco-

"What do you mean he sent me some things?" Daphne refused to touch the valise in Draco's outstretched arms "I promise you if he tried to give me money, I'll hex his bits off, your father or not. I've got to have some pride!" Draco grinned. He loved Daphne's feisty attitude.

"No I promise you that there's no money. My father did some research into twin bonds, and said that legally, you are basically a member of the Malfoy family, and he wanted to give you some things to make it easier on you. See? This is the Malfoy Code. You have to abide by it, now that you're an honorary Malfoy. Sorry about that. He said you need to put the book beneath your bed, and say the spell and overnight you'll learn all the codes. There's also some presents from my parents in there. Welcome to the family gifts, they said. You can open them whenever, I guess." Daphne took the bag from him, tentatively pulling out a beautifully wrapped present. Draco laughed "It won't bite!" Daphne still looked unsure "Well, go on! Open it!" She carefully peeled the paper open to reveal a beautifully carved wooden box. She opened the box and gasped at the display of wealth within. Draco watched her reverently touch one of the necklaces with a shaking finger.

"Draco, I can't possibly accept this!" She looked at him with eyes wide a saucers "Your parents must really like me!" Draco moved over to sit next to her. "Of course they like you, silly," he said. Draco pulled out the Malfoy crest necklace "See? This one's to show you're a member of the family. And the rest of these have to be worn by a young girl, so obviously my mother can't wear them. They're yours to keep, until I'm old enough to have children, my father said." Draco sat back and watched as Daphne opened her other packages. He was distracted from her gasps and coos of appreciation. Where on earth was Harry? Draco realized he hadn't seen him on the train. With a sinking feeling, Draco realized he hadn't seen the youngest weasel, either. What if the Weasel family had kidnapped Harry? Draco didn't think he could stand it if he didn't see Harry soon.

"WHAT?" Daphne screeched "DRACO MALFOY! I CANNOT POSSIBLY HAVE HEARD YOU CORRECTLY! YOU CANNOT SERIOUSLY HAVE A CRUSH ON—" She realized she could be overheard talking like this to Draco. She continued on in her mind _You cannot seriously have a crush on Harry Potter. Please, tell me that you were having a joke with me. Please._

Draco grimaced. He knew he couldn't lie to his twin. Literally. Couldn't lie. Draco suddenly began to examine his fingernails. _I've never called it a crush. I'm just…interested. He's an interesting figure. _Daphne narrowed her eyes at him _you have some explaining to do, Dray._

For the better part of ten minutes, Draco and Daphne held a silent conversation about Harry Potter. Finally, Daphne sat back in her chair. _I suppose it's okay, then. I really can't fault you for any of that. Plus, as your twin, you know I'd still love you if you had a crush on Dumbledore himself. _The two shuddered in unison. Draco felt incredibly relieved that his twin was so understanding. The two had fallen into mindless chatter when the compartment opened and Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise entered the compartment. The rest of their voyage to Hogwarts was uneventful to say the least.

The sorting was no more interesting than the voyage to Hogwarts. The sorting was actually very boring if you weren't among those being sorted, Draco realized. He had trouble focusing on anything going on during the ceremony. A feeling of dread was settling in the pit of Draco's stomach. He didn't know why the fact that Harry wasn't there was affecting him so much. True, he was fascinated by Harry, but fascination didn't necessarily equal concern for someone's whereabouts, at least, not concern to the point of panic. Daphne squeezed Draco's hand under the table. As the headmaster stood to deliver a speech, Draco tried to focus, especially when he realized Dumbledore was talking about Lockhart. Draco didn't want to think about Lockhart, especially now, when thinking of the man made him think of his unkind words to Harry in Flourish and Blotts.

For Draco, the welcoming feast was endless torture. Between his concern about Harry, his concern about his concern for Harry, and Daphne's concern for him, the feast dragged on and on. Finally, it was time to go to the dormitories. Draco stood with his friends. As he made his way to the doors, he overheard a Ravenclaw telling her friend something.

"Yeah! Didn't you hear? Harry Potter and Ron Weasley missed the train!" Draco felt a feeling of relief. So Harry was okay. The relief was short lived as the girl went on "So they flew the Weasley's flying car here, but it broke, and crashed into the Whomping Willow!" Draco felt an icicle of dread lodge in his stomach. Daphne looked up in alarm from her conversation with Pansy Parkinson. She concentrated for a second, and picked up on the whispers making their way through the Hall. She looked at Draco _I'm on it, Dray. Don't worry, I'll figure out if he's okay._ Draco realized with a jolt that he was truly and completely concerned for someone he'd never properly befriended. Harry Potter had such a hold over Draco that Draco was a little frightened. Draco decided he needed to figure out exactly WHY he cared so much for a boy he'd barely exchanged words with.

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Mmkay. Another chapter. Shorter than the last one. REVIEW, and I might feel extra inspired on the next one :)


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry for the delay...

* * *

"Master Malfoy?" Snape appeared as Draco was making his way back to the dorms "Would you please follow me?" Snape turned and walked away, not even glancing back to see if Draco was following. That was the power of Severus Snape. When he asked for something, he was obeyed. Draco followed, trying to picture walls closing around his bond with Daphne. He didn't want her swamped with the unnecessary worry that was radiating through his body.

I'm through, thought Draco. Absolutely finished. He knows about this—whatever it is—thing I have with Potter. And he's going to expel me. Then probably turn me in to the company. Then Avada me.

So consuming was Draco's panic that he didn't register the fact that Snape had lead him to the teacher's private quarters. He didn't register the comfortable armchairs, or the crackling fire, or the magical pictures of Draco at various ages displayed on the coffee table. Draco took a seat, still staring blindly around the room. It wasn't until Snape gave a soft "So," that Draco came to attention.

"So," Snape sighed. "I know this must be awkward for you, but as you know, unless a magical child has need of his godfather before the age of twelve, he stays in the background of the child's upbringing, which allows the parents to raise the children themselves. However, as the child approaches twelve, the role of the godfather becomes much more important. He takes a much more active role in the upbringing of the child, and offers not only support, but guidance." Snape had slipped into teacher mode. Draco knew the only way to avoid a full blown lecture was to interrupt.

"Sir? Are you saying you're my godfather?" At Snape's nod, Draco sat back and took a deep breath. So he wasn't in trouble after all. Draco's eyes wandered the room, noticing for the first time the pictures of himself at various ages posted around the room. Draco realized his parents must have sent these to Snape, and wondered why the pureblood customs had kept him from a man who seemed so interested in his childhood.

"Sir? What should I call you? It doesn't seem right, somehow, to keep calling my godfather 'sir' but—"

"You may call me Severus, should you wish, or Uncle Severus. Obviously I would prefer that you don't flaunt this about, so you should continue to call me 'Professor Snape' while in class." Severus sighed. "My goal in bringing you here was simply to inform you that I am, indeed, your godfather. I do not think it unreasonable that I should desire to get to know you better, so I thought that perhaps we could set up weekly appointments. If I am to serve as your mentor, I should like to know the quality of the young man I am advising. I am glad, young Draco, that you have more sense than some at this school. I feel certain that you would never fly a car into the Whomping Willow." Draco sat up straighter.

"So it's true? I heard that Potter and Weasley flew a car, but I didn't know how much of it to believe. What happened to the Willow?" Draco felt proud of himself. By asking about the Willow, he hoped he would also get to hear about Harry, and the outcome of the crash.

"The Willow is mostly intact, though Professor Sprout will need to do some splinting tomorrow. The two boys, most unfortunately, are intact and still at school, despite my effort to get them expelled." Draco took a deep mental breath. So Harry wasn't hurt. Good.

"How will Professor Sprout splint that tree? I would think it's impossible, what with its propensity to…you know…move…" Draco frowned in concentration. "I suppose that Bowman's third theory might apply, if the appropriate force and leverage were used, but the theory doesn't take into account the fifth bylaw of the Levine principle as it regards large woody plants, like trees. Wouldn't the phloem…" Draco trailed off at the look in Severus' eyes.

"To say I'm impressed is an understatement. I knew your father wouldn't raise an idiot, but you have thus far exceeded my expectations. As it were, the night is wearing on, and I must send you off. Godson or no, I would have to take points off if you were out in the halls after curfew. If you're truly interested, I would be happy to ask Pomona about the splinting procedure. Perhaps we can meet next Thursday for tea?" Draco smiled, and assured his godfather that he would be looking forward to the appointment

* * *

The first day was always the worst. In Draco's experience, surviving one day was the first step to surviving anything. Steeling himself, Draco sat down next to Crabbe and Goyle. He looked down the table wistfully. Blaise and Daphne were already bickering several feet down the table. How Draco wished he could be a part of whatever nonsense was going on down there. For the sake of the "alliances" his father asked him to make, however, Draco needed to talk to the giant oafs on either side of him.

"Good morning," Draco was at least cordial, if not cheerful. When he received only grunts, he tried again. "How was your summer?"

"Good" mumbled Crabbe through a mouthful of porridge. Goyle laughed as a raisin fell from Crabbe's mouth onto his robes. Draco closed his eyes briefly in disgust. He held no fondness for these boys, who had been spoiled and coddled to the point of idiocy. Conversations with them were always like this, unless—

"So, have you tried the new Honeydukes chocolate sugar quills?" Draco asked with a sigh. The other two boys enthusiastically took up the subject. Unfortunately, the only thing Crabbe and Goyle were able to discuss intelligently (if 'intelligently' meant using polysyllabic words instead of grunts) was candy. Daphne's mental voice floated in, filled with amusement. _I was going to complain that you weren't sitting with us, leaving me with Blaise, but I know there's no way Blaise is worse than THOSE two nincompoops! Ooh! Mail's coming! My father said he'd send me some new information on the evolution of twin bonds! I wonder—_

But Daphne's question was cut off by shrieking. Turning, Draco realized that someone at the Gryffindor table had received a howler. Better yet, Draco realized that the Weasel had received a howler. Draco derived immense satisfaction from the look on the Weasel's face, but couldn't repress a shudder. Well-bred purebloods would never send howlers when their children could be in the presence of others. It just wasn't done. The Weasel family was so appallingly wrong! Draco stood and left the Great Hall, signaling to Daphne and Blaise that he was going back to the dorms.

After grabbing his bag, Draco made his way up to Transfiguration. While the Gryffindor had Herbology with the Hufflepuff, the Ravenclaw and Slytherin took Transfiguration together. Then the Gryffindor and Slytherin had their infamous mixed potions class together, while the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had mixed DADA. To make sure that there was an appropriate amount of "inter house interaction" the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had mixed transfiguration, while Slytherin and Hufflepuff had Charms together. Bottom line, the houses were paired with all the other houses for at least one class, meaning three mixed classes, and the rest were individual classes. It was a confusing system, devised in recent years to cut down on teacher workloads. Instead of having to teach four classes for each year (a whopping 28) each teacher only had to teach three per level (a more manageable 21).

All of this goes to say that as Harry Potter made his way to herbology, Draco made his way up to the transfiguration classroom. Though slightly pathetic, Draco had spent several minutes on his walk to the dungeons figuring out the Gryffindor schedule for the year. All it took was a little reasoning, with the end result that Draco would know where Harry was at all times during the day. This meant he could run into or avoid the boy-who-lived at will.

* * *

"—So in conclusion, the most important part of the incantation is the volume. Too loud, and your buttons will be the size of plates. Too soft, and you'd never be able to find the tiny buttons." As McGonagall finished her lecture, she flicked her wand, waking up the students who dozed off during her lesson. Draco frowned at them. He would have expected that behavior from Gryffindors, but from Ravenclaws, it was just sad. Draco had taken careful notes, determined to do well this year. He wanted to do his father proud by excelling in classes. Draco practiced the incantation in his head for a few seconds, before attempting it aloud.

"Beelarium Buttonesca" Trust the Italians to come up with a spell that turned beetles into buttons. No wonder Italian wizards were so fashion conscious, it had been bred into them over generations! Draco frowned at his beetle. The thing hadn't changed a bit. Draco tried again. And again. And again. Again. Again. No luck.

_You aren't giving it the right concentration. This isn't like the mouse to goblet spell, it requires a lot less micromanagement, and a more generalized end picture. Let me help. _Draco felt as though Daphne were rummaging around in his mind. _Try it now._

Sure enough, the beetle transformed to a small black button on the first try. Draco met Daphne's eyes. "Did we know we could do that?" He asked, considering the possibilities.

"I didn't know but I suspected," said Daphne slowly. "That's pretty neat. I read about it in that book from my dad. I read a little bit this morning after you left to get your bag."

Blaise wandered over, took a look at their buttons, and began to complain "Why do you two get it on the first try? I don't understand!" He glared at his beetle as though it were the insect's fault. Draco turned to Daphne _should we tell him about? _Daphne looked thoughtful

"We could but—"

"Right, but then we'd have to—"

"Exactly, and I don't really feel like having to deal with—"

"I understand. Let's just leave it at that." Draco turned to Blaise, who looked confused and slightly angry. "I don't know how we did it, Blaise. I just, umm, focused on it right and it happened." Blaise still looked a little angry.

"Glad you decided to let me in on this conversation," he snorted.

* * *

It happened after Herbology. As Draco was walking the corridor with a group of Slytherin, he spotted Harry. The first thing Draco noticed was the cornered look in Harry's eyes, like he was trying to escape. The reason for this became clear as Draco approached the cluster of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. A first year was waving a camera in Harry's face and demanding a signed picture. Draco could tell that Harry hated this situation, and Draco dearly wanted to help Harry out. _Take the attention off him_. Draco glanced at Daphne, who was determinedly looking the other way. _That's the only way to get him out of this situation without YOU losing face. _Draco thought for a second.

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?" Draco tried to be as loud as possible, to get all the students to look at him. He shot a contemptuous look at the first year, hoping he scared the pants off him. "Everyone line up! Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!" Daphne turned and stared at him. _Was that supposed to make it better? Really? You are such an idiot. That's exactly the wrong thing to say!_ This just made Draco angry, so when he heard the tiny first year squeak "You're just jealous!" Draco lost it.

"Jealous? Of What? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself." Draco ignored Daphne's groan, and blocked out her mental voice. The rest of the confrontation passed in a blur, as Draco made fun of the Weasel, and left the room in a general bad mood. Later in the common room, Daphne came and sat against him on the couch, putting her head on his shoulder.

_Draco, you know I think the world of you, but that really wasn't smart. I mean, I know that if it were a Slytherin in Harry's position, they would have recognized that you were trying to shift the focus to that first year's faux pas, but Harry thought you were insulting him AND the first year. Next time, try to be a little less Slytherin. Most other people can't handle our subtlety._

Draco felt a little better at this, and glanced around the room. Suddenly, he sat up straight and gasped. A poster had appeared on the bulletin board that read simply "Quidditch Tryouts- Saturday"

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Ooooh...Review and you'll get...another chapter! Yay


	13. Chapter 13

Father,

I just wanted to write to tell you that tryouts for the Slytherin House Quidditch team are this weekend. I will admit to exhilaration, but secretly, I feel rather nervous. If I don't make the team this year, I probably won't make it at all. You remember Donahue, the promising seeker from the ten and under leagues? He's three years older than me, you recall. Well, the year the Ravenclaws went to look for a new seeker, he was ill. The next year, the Ravenclaw seeker position was simply not open for trials. The captain felt that the team worked best with the current seeker. All this meant that when Falmouth Falcons came to Hogwarts, he wasn't scouted, and the idiot Hufflepuff Chaser (some sixth year) was recruited for the Falmouth minor league team instead of him.

This whole rambling letter is to express my dissatisfaction with the Quidditch system here at school. Part of the reason I was so keen to go to Durmstrang was the fact that there are no "house teams" but rather intramural teams, where students can recruit their own teams, and as long as you have all seven players, a team can be formed. Not only does this lead to more Quidditch games (a definite plus!) but also gives a chance for less experienced players to grow their skills, which fosters a friendly environment surrounding the game, rather than the much harsher tones here.

Please tell Mother that I miss her. I really appreciated the pie she sent last week. She told me that part of the secret was to sprinkle vodka in the dough instead of water—that's something I never would have thought of! Anyways, I send you both my love, and I'll be sure to send you a parchment as soon as I find out what happens with the Quidditch trials.

Sincerely,

Draco

**LINE BREAK**

Draco stretched his aching hand. Once he'd begun the letter, he'd found it difficult to stop. Draco was overly emotional these days, a fact that was really bothering him. He knew that this change in him was partly due to being overwhelmed with both his and Daphne's emotions, but part of it came from Harry Potter. Draco felt terrible for the way things were left after the Creevy (for he later found out that that was the first year's name) Catastrophe, as Daphne liked to call it. Pushing his Harry Potter emotions aside just left Draco cranky and irritable, a fact which was not lost on his friends. Fortunately, Daphne helped him to convince his "less than close friends" (anyone other than Blaise and Daphne herself) that these seeming mood swings were due to the upcoming Quidditch trials.

Another issue facing Draco was Pansy Parkinson. For some reason, the silly girl had gotten it into her head that Draco somehow enjoyed conversing with her. She pestered him all the time about the most inane subjects. The worst thing about Pansy (to Draco) was her peculiar smell. Pansy not only looked like a pug; she smelled like one. Draco suspected that she knew that she smelled like dog, which explained her overpowering perfume. The sickening combination of perfume, dog, and Pansy's admittedly dull conversation skills left Draco running the other way when Pansy approached.

Draco glanced around the library. It was nearing curfew, and nearly everyone had gone to bed. The Weasel girl was in the corner of the library, scribbling furiously in a tatty diary. Draco filed the information away for later, when he could figure out a way to use that information to make the young Weasel cry. Draco knew that most outsiders would see the Malfoy Weasley feud as being rather petty, but that was simply because after the Weasley family's betrayal of the trust of the Malfoy family, the Weasleys sucked up to the "light" families. There had always been certain families that were associated with "good" and certain families associated with "power" (or so Draco's father taught…a less—ehem—powerful family might call the two sides "good" and "evil") Because the Weasleys left the side of power to toady to the likes of the Diggorys and the Longbottoms, they ensured their family would seem to be the "victims" of the Malfoy family. However, the true nature of the feud was taught to each and every Malfoy and Weasley child. The Malfoys passed on the story for self defense—so that no future Malfoy would be so duped again. The Weasleys were taught the story for the opposite reason—they hoped and prayed that they would be able to befriend a young rich magical person, so that they might again leach off of them.

Draco saw that the Weasel girl had a glazed look in her eye _the girl weasel isn't all there in the head, is she? _He mentally asked Daphne, much to her amusement. As Draco left the library, he felt a chill on the back of his neck. He glanced around the library. He could swear someone was looking at him, but there was no one to be seen. Draco continued along the corridor, the feeling of unease not abating until he broke into a semi-trot towards Snape's room (whoever was watching him, he didn't want them to know where the Slytherin common room was…)

**LINE BREAK**

"Wake up!"

Long pause, in which Draco rolled over, but gave no reply

"Wake UP!"

Muffled groan from Draco

"WAKE UP!"

Draco pulled the covers over his head, only to have them yanked down as Daphne said—

"Dray, I'm really sorry to do this but your mom said if you wouldn't get up to use…Lumos Totalus!"

A shriek of agony came from the bed.

"Okay! Okay! Stop the torture you madwoman! I'm awake!" Draco glared at Daphne who grinned happily, pleased that she'd managed the spell on her first try. "Those sunglasses are too big for your face; you look like a bug!" Daphne simply laughed, too lighthearted to be upset by anything Draco said. Draco pushed away the covers and stood, not embarrassed by the fact that Daphne was seeing him in only his boxers. She was his sister…what's the big deal? As he made his way to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, Draco suddenly realized why Daphne had woken him up. "Quidditch today?" He asked, panicking.

"Indeed," said Daphne calmly, pulling his flying gear out of his trunk. She pulled out Draco's old Meteor 780X (which was the racing broom du jour until the Nimbus was unveiled) and laid it on his bedcovers, which she had straightened with a flick of her wand as soon as he got out of bed. Draco's pads she arranged on the foot of the bed. Daphne dug in Draco's trunk for a second before she pulled out two sets of Quidditch robes. "Plain grey ones, or your most recent team robes? The grey ones are rather boring, but it would look well with your eyes. On the other hand—" Daphne's considerations of the Quidditch robes were cut short by Draco's exclamation of "Pick One!"

Draco stared in the mirror, silently giving himself a pep-talk. It wouldn't do to appear anything less than confident at the breakfast table, so Draco had to rid himself of any jitters before leaving the dorm. He would never admit it, but he was immensely grateful that Daphne was there to help him get ready for the trials. Draco felt a rush of love from Daphne. _You silly boy, making yourself sick over this! You know you'll do well, and you'll be the youngest Slytherin seeker ever!_ Draco brightened—it was true, it was unusual for a young seeker to make the team, in the history of Hogwarts there had been two first year players (including Harry Potter) and though considerably more students made the house team as second years, the Slytherin House had a reputation for choosing the oldest and therefore "most skilled" seeker they could. Draco knew this year would be different. For one thing, Draco knew he was good at Quidditch. This wasn't bragging, his father had provided Draco every tool to learn to be the best seeker possible. Draco knew, just knew that this year was his. _That's the spirit, Dray!_ Daphne's voice floated in serenely. _Now, let's go get some breakfast, hmm?_

**LINE BREAK**

"Okay team!" Marcus Flint's gravelly baritone filled the changing room "Obviously we don't need to hold trials for Keeper" He nodded at Miles Bletchley, who grinned and gave a regal half wave at the rest of the team "Our chasers have always worked well together, so I see no reason to replace any of us" He gave a sinister grin as he gazed at his fellow chasers, Montague (who went only by that one name, and beat up anyone who tried to figure out his first name, which obviously lead to an intense desire to discover his seemingly embarrassing name) and Adrian Pucey. "Derrick and Bole are top rate beaters, so we're good there…which leaves us Seeker. Terrance Higgs decided to spend his seventh year focusing on his NEWTS, so we've gathered to hold trials for the new seeker. The contenders this year are Draco Malfoy, second year, and Gregory Nott, sixth year." Draco's stomach, which had given a funny leap when his name was called, plummeted to his stomach. Flint was infamously good friends with Nott. If Nott were his competition, it wouldn't matter how well Draco flew, Flint would be prone to choose his friend over Draco. _Dray, I can sense your panic all the way up here! What's wrong?_ Daphne's voice invaded his panic, and helped him see a plan _Daph, can you get Professor Snape to sit in on the trials? Just say that I asked for him. _Daphne's mental voice became confused _Dray, why would Snape care?_ Draco made a sheepish face _Umm, he's my godfather, did I not mention that?_ Daphne's indignation was a clear indication that he hadn't mentioned that fact to her. Draco smirked, until he realized the whole room was looking at him. "Erm, what was the question?" Draco asked, trying not to blush. Nott snickered, and Flint looked annoyed.

"I asked if you'd prefer to fly your trial first or second. Since you're younger, I figured I'd give you the added advantage of getting to choose when you wanted to do the trial." Flint's smirk showed that the advantage of which he spoke was really just a chance to try to rib Draco by making him seem like an inept player. Draco thought for a second. He knew Snape would make the players more likely to be fair when selecting a new seeker, but he also felt that Snape wouldn't interfere in the final decision. "I say you should let Nott choose when to fly. He's going to need any advantage he can get." Draco tried to look unconcerned, but his heart leapt when he saw Adrian Pucey grin at Draco's statement. Perhaps the whole team wasn't against him just because the captain was. Nott glared, but gritted out a "first" Draco knew he would have to fly superbly so that he wouldn't allow Nott a chance to outfly him.

As the team made their way to the stadium, Draco caught sight of Severus, lounging in the bleachers, obviously there to watch the trials. As Draco walked by, his godfather raised an almost imperceptible eyebrow. _Dray! _Came Daphne's frantic mental voice _I can't find Snape anywhere! I've asked everyone, and no one's seen him since breakfast! I'm so sorry!_ Draco grinned despite himself. So Severus was there to see him all on his own? Draco couldn't help but feel warmed by his godfather's desire to see his trials. The warmth flamed into a burning desire to do well, and impress his godfather. Draco did a few lunges that Krum had taught him over the summer. He finally took hold of his broom and neatly mounted. He nodded at Flint, who had been sniggering with Nott as Draco stretched. Flint's eyes suddenly narrowed. "What's Snape doing here?" Draco gave a snort "He's been here the whole time. Good thing you aren't going to be trying for Seeker, with observational skills like that, matches might last for days!" Pucey laughed out loud at this, and Severus gave a small grin. Flint scowled, but motioned for the team to mount their brooms. The trial here was to see how quickly Draco could find and catch the snitch with the whole team flying interference on him. Draco nursed no illusions, he knew Flint would be much easier on Nott than on him. This made it imperative that Draco catch the Snitch as soon as possible. He kicked off the ground and joined the team in the air. With a flick of his wand, Flint released the snitch. Draco had to wait for the count of five before flying after it. When the time was up, Draco took off after the snitch.

Draco did a loop of the pitch, avoiding players left and right. Pucey flew in front of him, and Draco did a difficult spin midair, to which Pucey shouted "Nice one, Malfoy!" Draco didn't allow himself time to bask in the glory of praise, and instead, narrowed his eyes as he scanned the pitch. After no time, he spotted the glimmer, and dove for the snitch. Flint tried to crash his broom into Draco, but Draco decided to use a maneuver Krum had worked on with him. Though Draco had never performed the maneuver correctly, now was not the time for doubts. As Flint approached on the collision course, Draco tensed, then at the last second sprung. He flew up in the air, flipping to avoid Flint, then landed back on the broom. Somehow, Draco managed the trick and still knew where the snitch was. Draco flattened himself against the broom, urging himself to go faster. His fingers closed over the snitch, and Draco felt a sense of relief, replaced by panic. How long had he taken to find the snitch? Pucey flew close to Draco. "One minute ten seconds? That's a Hogwarts all time record! Draco, may I call you Draco? You may call me Adrian, since we're obviously going to be teammates. Anyways, Draco, that was bloody fantastic!" Draco and Adrian flew down together to the pitch, where Flint and a fuming Nott were waiting. Flint glared at Draco "Well done, for an amateur. As you know, the trials aren't over yet, so don't celebrate until you see how Quidditch is really played." With this, Flint and Nott rose into the air. Adrian made a face at their backs, grinned at Draco, and rose to join the rest of the team.

Draco watched nervously as the snitch was released. He cast a spell to let him know what time it was, and counted the seconds as Nott flew after the snitch. As soon as the time passed one minute ten seconds, Draco felt like cheering. He'd made the team! He'd done it! When Nott finally caught the snitch four minutes later, the whole team made their way to the stands, a few seats away from Severus. Flint glanced at Severus, then looked at the team.

"Well, we saw two trials today, and I think it's obvious to everyone who deserves to be on the team. Therefore, it is my privilege as captain to select" Draco's heart swelled with pride "Gregory Nott!" Draco's jaw fell open. "Greg might not have caught the snitch as quickly as the other competitor, but that was just a fluke. Greg has been playing longer, which obviously means he's more skilled and—" Adrian Pucey stood up, and interrupted Flint.

"Marcus, that's a load of rubbish! Draco could out fly Nott with his eyes closed, and worse, you know it! Is your desire for your friend to be on the team so great that you'd throw the team's best interest to the wind?" Adrian glanced at Derrick and Bole "You know you agree with me! I nominate we take a vote!" Flint spluttered.

"That's totally against protocol! My decision as Captain is final!"

"Mr. Flint, I believe you're forgetting the fact that when a team is undecided, the head of house has the right to choose the new team member. However, I wouldn't dream of taking authority from the team, therefore I feel Mr. Pucey's solution, that of a vote, is entirely acceptable." Severus spoke quietly, but with an air of authority. Flint gaped, obviously trying to figure a way around the edict, then gave a resigned sigh. "Okay. Hands up if you're for Greg." Only he raised his hand. "Well men, your decision is clear. Malfoy, it's my obligation as Captain to allow you on the team." Draco refused to let Flint's belittling attitude ruin his victory. Severus spoke up again. "Oh, there is the matter of the Nimbuses to take into account." The whole team looked up in unison. Flint cleared his throat. "Nimbuses? More than one?" Severus sneered.

"Mr. Malfoy decided to allow Malfoy Enterprises to sponsor the Slytherin team. He has provided the school with seven Nimbus two thousand" A cheer went up, interrupting Severus, who calmly waited for silence again, before adding "And Ones" He unveiled the shiny black broom, as the team erupted, yelling and cheering. Draco grinned. As far as the public knew, the '01s were still in the design phase. Of course Lucius had procured one for his son. Draco smirked. With these new brooms, the team would be unbeatable!

**LINE BREAK**


	14. Chapter 14

As I'm sure you've noticed...I'm baaaaack! I was out for a few weeks because my grandpa passed away. It was very sad, and I just didn't feel like writing for awhile. But I'm back, and hopefully I can get this beast of a story up and running!

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"I still can't believe you did it!" Draco winced as Blaise shouted (for the millionth time) his surprise that Draco had made the Slytherin team. "I mean, I know you love to fly and all that nonsense, but still…I can't believe it!" Daphne glared at Blaise.

"I can't believe YOU! Any idiot could tell Draco would make it…I mean, he's a top rate flier, and he's been practicing every day all summer long!" Daphne slapped Blaise on the back of his head. "Numbskull. Draco, I don't know why you hang out with this mumper. He's just ridiculous!" Blaise grinned.

"Ridiculously HANDSOME, you mean." Daphne sniffed at Blaise's cocky statement and linked arms with Draco. _Really. Why do you hang out with him? I can't stand him sometimes. He's so smart, but he acts like a moron all the time. Moreover, he's always flirting with anyone wearing a skirt. What a waste!_

Daphne's thoughts weren't new to Draco, so he simply grinned at her. As the trio was walking back to the Slytherin common room, Draco started. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he felt that same feeling, like he was being followed. _Daph? Do you feel like someone's following us?_ Daphne frowned and glanced around, pretending to stretch. _No? Do you feel watched, Dray?_ Draco didn't know what that peculiar sensation was…as if someone was watching him, but he'd never seen someone observing him. Draco shook off the thought as they neared the common room. With a start, he realized he needed to send a letter to his father to let him know the results of the trials. Making his excuse to Daphne and Blaise, Draco made his way toward the owlery. As he walked, Draco again felt that strange sensation, but he ignored it as best he could. Ahead, Draco saw Peeves terrorizing a small Hufflepuff girl.

"Oy! Bugger off, you weenie little annoyance!" Draco strode toward Peeves, who merely stuck his tongue out at Draco. "Peeves, I mean it! Quit being such a nuisance!" Draco had never liked Peeves. His mother had been picked on by Peeves during her years at Hogwarts, and she'd told Draco to stay away from the floating nuisance. Draco couldn't let anyone be terrorized by Peeves because he didn't want anyone to turn out like his mother, who refused to set foot at Hogwarts because of her fear of Peeves. Draco had made it clear to Peeves that it was his personal vendetta to keep Peeves from bothering the younger students.

"Wittle firstie girl misses her mummy! Wittle firstie girl looks like a piggy" Peeves continued to taunt the girl, flinging her school supplies into the air. Draco pulled out his wand. Peeves turned to him "Oooh…little Malfoy has a great big wand! Is it true what they say…Big wand, little—OOF!" Peeves' taunts were cut off as Draco's spell sent a flock of pillows to pummel the poltergeist. "Get out of here, Peeves, or I'll call for the Baron…You know, my house ghost?" Peeves zoomed off, shrieking as the pillows followed him. Draco turned to the Hufflepuff.

"Are you alright? What's your name?" As he spoke, Draco bent to begin picking up the girl's belongings. The girl gave a frightened squeak "You're a Slytherin!" she didn't seem able to look Draco in the eye. Draco snorted, "I am…and you're a Hufflepuff, but I don't think that makes any difference about our names…My name's Draco." The girl looked hesitant. "My name's umm…Susanna?" Draco smirked gently "Are you sure?" This earned him a tiny smile from the girl, who straightened. "My name's Susanna. Susanna Miller." Draco knew from the name that the girl was at most a half-blood. "Have you ever met a poltergeist before?" he handed her the quills he'd collected from the floor, and then knelt to unknot her shoes, which Peeves had laced together. Susanna frowned "My parents are both, umm, muggles. It's weird calling them that…but they are. So I've never been anywhere like this, or seen anything like THAT." Susanna smiled gratefully when Draco finished re-tying her shoes. "So, do you?" Draco asked, pulling the girl to her feet.

"Do I?" Susanna frowned in confusion. "Do I what?"

"Miss your mum." Draco turned Susanna around, unknotted, and replaited her hair (a skill he'd apparently learnt from Daphne…his fingers knew what to do, though he'd never done it before). When Susanna's shoulders began shaking, Draco turned the girl around, and gave her a hug. "It's just," sobbed Susanna "I've never ever ever been away from my parents, for even a day! I miss them so much, and I don't even know how to post a letter! I've written dozens, and I can't find a postbox to mail them!" Draco patted Susanna's back uncertainly. Though he knew how to plait hair, dealing with tears was something not even his twin bond could prepare him for. "Well, I was on my way to send my father a letter…do you want to go and get your letters and meet me in the Entrance Hall? I can show you how to post mail, though I've never heard of a 'postbox' before…you'll have to explain that one to me." Susanna promised to meet him in a few minutes, then rushed off to collect her letters. Draco continued toward the Entrance Hall, blissfully unaware of the green eyes that had taken in the whole exchange with surprise, amusement, and hope.

**LINE BREAK**

"There…I've included a letter to your parents explaining where they can purchase an owl so that they can send letters back and forth with you. Any more 'wizardy questions' as you call them?" Draco smiled at Susanna, who, once she got past her tears, was wickedly funny and outspoken. Susanna shook her head. "You know, you really aren't so bad. I've heard some people say that Slytherins are mean and unkind, and it's definitely not true! Next time I hear someone bad-talking you or Slytherins, I'll set them straight! Hey, do you want to eat lunch with some of my friends some time?" Draco paused for a minute to collect his thoughts.

"Susanna, I like you. You're funny and easy to get along with. But there are some parts of the wizarding world that aren't kind to, err, witches and wizards with muggle parents. And, well, my family belongs to that part." Seeing Susanna's eyes widen, Draco hastened to explain, "I mean, I don't have a problem with you! You're funny, and I like you, as I said! It's just, that, well, it isn't safe for either of us to be friends with one another, at least in public. You'd be in trouble simply for being you, and I'd be in trouble for associating with you. So you see why I can't eat with you. But…I wouldn't mind talking to you again, and introducing you to some of my friends. Perhaps I'll see you around?" Draco felt terrible that he had to be the one to open Susanna's eyes to the unsavory part of the Wizarding world, but it had to happen, he told himself.

Susanna peered at Draco from under her bangs. "Why does it make a difference about my parents? I don't understand…" Draco shrank inside. He'd never given it any thought before, but how would he feel if he was discriminated against because of his parents? "I wish I hadn't said anything," said Draco softly "because I hate to see you so upset. Honestly, I'd love to continue to talk to you, but please understand my selfishness. I really don't want to get into trouble with my family, and it wouldn't be safe for me to associate with you, because that would mean I'd be associated with my parent's enemies, and that's not a position I want to find myself in. Does that make sense?" Susanna nodded reluctantly, and Draco had a rush of clarity. "Perhaps you should go talk to Hermione Granger…the second year Gryffindor? Ask her what you need to know as a muggleborn. She'll know all the things you didn't learn how to do as a little witch, and she'd probably be happy to show you, know-it-all that she is." Susanna stared at her feet, then looked up and threw her arms around Draco.

"I know that it's dangerous for you, so I'd never show it in public, but I think you're pretty great Draco. If it's ever safe for me to do so, I'd love to get to know you better." Susanna hung on Draco a little longer. "Mmm…Draco? What kind of shampoo do you use? You smell like something I can't quite identify…" Susanna blushed when she realized what she was saying, "I'm sorry, that was rude. I have a keen nose, and I can usually identify scents, but I've never smelled this combination before and I…" She trailed off, mortified. Draco grinned at her. "Don't worry, I do the same thing." They both started at a noise from just outside the door. Draco looked at Susanna imploringly. "I don't mean it, how I'm about to act. I promise" at Susanna's nod, Draco dropped a vial of ink on the floor, and began berating Susanna, winking so she'd know to play along. As Hermione Granger herself made her way into the room, all she saw was the evil git Draco berating an innocent first year. Draco spotted an opportunity, and said to Susanna "Listen, I still can't believe how clumsy you are. You really should learn a cleaning spell, but you probably don't know one, seeing as your parents aren't magical. Granger, I'll leave this one with you. You're such a know-it-all you can probably teach that girl how to do a simple cleaning spell." Draco swept out, head held high. Once through the doorway, he gave a wave and a big grin at Susanna, who winked. Draco turned around, and promptly ran into Harry Potter, who had seen the whole interaction.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco began walking toward the door. He stopped in his tracks at Harry's next words.

"I just can't figure you out, Malfoy." Draco turned and sneered.

"We can't all wear our hearts on our sleeve, Potter." Harry looked hard at Draco.

"That's not what I mean. I've seen you act like a decent human being, then turn around and act a complete arse. I don't pretend to understand why, but I think the decent part of you is the part you're trying to hide." Harry looked at Draco searchingly, but when Draco couldn't formulate a reply, Harry turned and walked into the owlery.

Draco stared at the doorway for a few seconds. On autopilot, he made his way back to the castle and into the common room. Daphne saw Draco's absent stare, and left him to his thoughts. When it was bedtime, Draco made his way up to bed. He pulled out the journal his great auntie Black had sent (by way of a horrid house elf named Kreacher). He'd never once used the book, but he had thought long and hard about everything that had happened that day, and he needed somewhere to put those thoughts.

As Draco wrote about his encounter with Susanna, he noted that she was no different from Daphne, really. He thought about how he'd feel if Daphne were muggleborn, and how he'd feel if Deatheaters tortured Daphne. Draco didn't know what it meant, exactly, but he knew that he'd never be able to accept everything his parents stood for anymore. True, the muggleborn were changing the Wizarding traditions and culture, but Susanna couldn't help that, and therefore, it was unfair to punish her, or allow her to be punished.

Draco also wrote about his conversation with Harry. Draco didn't know what to make of the conversation. Did Harry think that Draco was a decent person, even after the horrible luck Draco had while conversing with Harry? Draco was confused. What sort of person would come away from the sort of interactions Draco and Harry shared and think that Draco could be a decent person?

From those two main topics, Draco's mind wandered, and he wrote about everything that came into his head. He wrote and wrote until well after bedtime. For the first time in a long time, Draco slept soundly.

**LINE BREAK**

"Draco!" a strange voice called his name. Draco tried to ignore it. "Draco! Wake up, mate! It's time for practice!" Draco cracked an eye to see Adrian standing over his bed "I donwanna" Draco grumbled, rolling over. Daphne came bouncing into the room "Oh, step aside and see the master at work." She pulled out her wand and a pair of sunglasses. Draco noticed this and shot out of bed. "I'm UP! I'm up I swear!" He ran into the bathroom followed by Daphne's giggles.

Later that morning at breakfast, Draco and Adrian discussed Quidditch, while Blaise followed half heartedly, and Daphne made no attempt to disguise her boredom, and her blatant attempts at changing the subject.

"So what you're saying, Draco is that if the chasers all train together all the time, it's been shown that their individual marketability on the professional market goes down?" Adrian was buttering his toast. Draco took a bite of eggs and replied, "Well, yeah. If all your moves were based off your teammates, than any team that hired you would need to train not only you, but they'd also need to re-train all your teammates. You need to show that you're an independent thinker with independent moves who can work well with a group. That's what my coach said, anyways."

"So…umm…Quidditch is cool." Daphne cut in "I like Quidditch too. What do you think of the new chocolates at Honeydukes? Have you tried them yet?" Draco grinned. He loved Honeydukes chocolate "Yeah, it's great. Hey, Adrian, did you hear that the Harpies have a chocolate fountain in their locker rooms? Some say it's part of the seeker's contract, that she HAS to have chocolate before every game. Smart negotiation, no?" Daphne made a noise of disgust. "You boys better get going. Practice is going to start soon." Draco and Adrian stood without pausing their conversation and made their way toward the doors.

In the locker room, Draco suited up in the Slytherin practice robes, and pulled out his Nimbus. The brooms had arrived soon after Draco's letter reached his father, and the whole team had been itching to try them out. As they gathered to walk out onto the pitch, Draco realized that there was already a team on the pitch. The Gryffindors. Draco saw Harry flying around the pitch with such grace that Draco worried about the upcoming match. Harry was definitely a natural, and while Draco was good, he'd worked and worked to get where he was in the game. The Gryffindor team quickly realized they weren't the only ones on the pitch, and they flew down to stand side by side. The girl chasers were quite intimidating, in Draco's opinion, standing shoulder to shoulder leering at them.

The Gryffindor captain landed ungracefully and came over to bellow and Flint "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Flint smirked at the other captain. "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood." Oliver Wood looked thunderous. "But I booked the field! I booked it!"

Flint pulled a paper out of his pocked "Ah," he said, "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'" Wood was distracted.

"You've got a new Seeker? Where?" Draco stepped out from the team and grinned with pride. One of the Weasleys glared at him.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" asked Twin One.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." The team held out their broomsticks. Draco frowned slightly. The way Flint phrased it made it sound, Draco's father had purchased the brooms so that the Slytherins would let him on the team. From the look Adrian shot him, Draco knew he wasn't the only one picking up on the subtle insult Flint was insinuating. Draco didn't listen to the next words Flint spoke as he seethed with inner rage. How dare Flint try to make it seem as though Draco had bought his way onto the team. He got on fair and square…even set a Hogwarts Seeker Trial record, and had a certificate to prove it! Of course Flint would do something like that, though. Flint didn't want him on the team to begin with, so he'd delight in the chance to degrade the pride Draco felt in his position. Draco tried to console himself. At least these were only Gryffindors. They might not catch onto the insinuations. Draco noticed that Granger and the Weasel had made their way over.

"What's HE doing here?" The Weasel was asking

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Draco proudly (oh, all right, he was being smug, but Draco felt he was entitled to some smugness every once in awhile) "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." Draco delighted in the Weasel's idiotic expression as he gazed at the brooms. "Good, aren't they? But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them." Draco was pleased. It wasn't every day he got to insult a pack of Weasels to their faces. His pleasure quickly died, however, when Granger butted in.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to BUY their way in," said Granger sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

Draco raged. Not only did Granger catch on to Flint's insinuations, but she expanded upon them and announced them to everyone on the field. Draco was so furious, he said the most hurtful thing he could think of, in an attempt to get back at Granger.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

The field broke out into pandemonium, but it was nothing compared to the storm in his own mind.

_DRACO MALFOY YOU'VE REALLY DONE IT NOW. I DON'T THINK THERE'S MUCH GOING BACK FROM THIS ONE. I NEVER EVER THOUGHT I'D SAY THIS TO YOU. I'M INCREDIBLY INCREDIBLY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU, AND I'M ASHAMED TO BE YOUR TWIN RIGHT NOW. DON'T COME TALK TO ME. I DON'T EVEN WANT TO LOOK AT YOU. I'm so angry with you, Draco. I thought I knew you, but apparently, there is a dark and evil side to you, and it's bigger than I thought._

Oh, Crap.

* * *

Oh Crap is right! Poor Draco...

Oh, and don't forget to review! ~C


	15. Chapter 15I'm sorry it's so short

Yes, I know. This is really short. BUT! Review and I'll get the next chapter out soon (and it'lll be a long one).

* * *

The past week had seen Draco wandering the halls with a blank expression on his face, going through the routine of school without any real emotion or attempts at engaging. Daphne was no longer speaking to him, and Draco feared he had royally screwed up any chance he had had at a relationship of any sort with Harry Potter. Draco was generally miserable. He had not seen Susanna since the day after "the incident." The girl had stared at him for a second, before turning away, and leaving him in the hallway without a glance back.

Draco wandered the hall until he found "his" unused classroom with the large windows, overlooking the lake. He sat quietly for some time, whether seven hours or seven minutes he couldn't tell. An eternity later, Draco stood. So many thoughts had gone through his head and he had finally decided upon a course of action. Everything had finally become clear to him. Looking at the clock tower, Draco realized he'd sat unmoving for hours past sunset. It was well past curfew, but Draco was oddly confident he wouldn't be discovered. As he made his way back to the dormitory, he called for Daphne mentally. When that didn't work, Draco remembered one of the reasons a young Malfoy woman was given Malfoy jewelry. Draco pulled out his pocket watch and pressed the tip of his wand to the dial. He whispered "Daphne" and noticed with satisfaction that the dial showed exactly where Daphne was (asleep, for all it mattered). Draco then whispered "here, quietly" Daphne came down the stairs, looking confused and angry. When she sat down in the chair, she immediately dug into Draco.

"What's with this ridiculous jewelry? I tried to stop coming downstairs, but the necklace pulled me! This is absolutely ridiculous, and I still refuse to talk to you." She turned her back, muttering viciously under her breath.

"I've decided not to follow Voldemort, should he ever come back fully." Draco said quietly. Daphne's muttering ceased, but she didn't turn around. Draco took this as a sign to continue, so he said, "I've spent the past few hours thinking about everything that's ever happened to me. It's very confusing, because I know my parents love me, so I want to do everything in my power to protect them, but I also know that they're evil, and they do evil things. I can't synchronize the two visions in my head. I know that my parents tortured and killed muggles on a regular basis, but every time I think of that, I also think of all the examples of how they love me. It's that knowledge that they love me that has allowed me to realize that no matter what I do, they will allow it, internally if not externally. That, along with all the emotions I've experienced regarding Harry and Susanna just lead me to decide that I know where I want to go with my life, and it's definitely not toward Voldemort."


	16. Chapter 16

"I gheel lak dah—"

"Draco, dear," spoke Narcissa calmly "Number 1345." Draco scowled. He KNEW that Malfoy's weren't supposed to speak with their mouths full. But how did his parents expect him to eat between explaining what had occurred in the past year and answering questions about the upcoming year?

"Sorry, Mother," he began, "I was saying, I feel like the year went well. I mean, aside from the whole "everyone thought Harry Potter was the heir of Slytherin." Draco realized this sounded an awful lot like he was pitying Harry, so he added quickly "What an insult to Slytherin!" Lucius laughed, while Narcissa surveyed him calmly.

"I'd heard from Altair that you expressed your pureblooded…pride…in a manner rather unbefitting of a schoolboy. Care to speak to that?" Draco seemed to deflate, slightly, remembering the fallout from the 'mudblood' incident. _I didn't speak to you for nearly a month, did I?_ commented Daphne, amusedly _You and your big mouth. You learned to think before speaking though, didn't you?_ Draco grinned. In the past months, his twin bond had grown to the point where he could shield his thoughts from Daphne, but he couldn't ever keep her totally out, if she wanted to share a thought from him. They could correspond over long distances, which was helpful in alleviating his lonesomeness, as Daphne had left school a few days early to go to Germany again with her father. Draco had missed Daphne's reassurances when he realized where Harry had gone…Draco shook his head. His mother had asked a question, after all.

"Mother, I've thought a lot about what I said, and I'm not proud that I betrayed family sentiments, especially in front of so many supporters of the light. I'd like to think I was provoked (she did imply I'd bought my way onto the team, rather than earned my way by pure talent) but I realized afterward, with Daphne's help, that there is no excuse for acting the way I did." Draco sat, chin up, and gazed at his father "I also realized that I don't support the practice of discrimination based on parentage. I know that magical theory is enhanced by upbringing, but I also know that pure magical talent has no rhyme or reason. Look at Filch! His mother was a descendant of Hufflepuff, and he has less magic in his whole body than Granger has in her little toe." Draco met his parents' eyes nervously. Lucius looked down at his potatoes, thinking of what to say.

"Draco, since your early childhood, I've given thought to how I'd face this moment in your life. The moment when you'd make your own decision for your life path. I admit that I've always hoped you'd do the RIGHT thing, but I'm going to keep my opinions to myself, and give you the chance to develop your capacity for independent thought without my influence. I only ask that you not speak of the matter to me until you're fifteen, three years from now, as I have the feeling much will change in that time." A heavy silence fell over the table. For several minutes, no one spoke, each absorbed in his or her own thoughts. Finally—

"Draco, dear, tell me about Quidditch!" Narcissa seemed eager to distract her family from the conversation of a few minutes ago "I heard from Severus that you displayed immense aptitude for the seeker position!" The awkward moment had passed, as Draco began excitedly describing his practices, as well as his growing friendship with Adrian Pucey.

"What about the Slytherin-Gryffindor matches?" Lucius interjected "I've heard every detail about the Ravenclaw match, but you haven't said a word about the game against your rivals." Draco's face clouded briefly with disappointment at his loss, then brightened as he talked about Harry's flying skills.

"He's like nothing I've ever seen before, father. Harry Potter has the most natural flying style that you'd swear he was the one holding the broom in the air, not the other way around!"

"Well, perhaps we should see if Potter is part elf," Lucius mused thoughtfully, "perhaps we could get him disqualified for his illicit advantage." Draco scowled.

"Father, that's not what I meant! I mean—I don't know. I guess I just was so blown away by his flying prowess I got a little…overenthusiastic in my description." Draco paused, chewing some roasted Cornish hen. "The first match, though, did I tell you?" at Lucius' questioning glance, Draco continued "The first match, a bludger was enchanted to follow him, and attack him the whole time. I don't know how he still managed to beat me, all I know is that after that display of skill, I've been promising to practice even more this summer in the hopes of making up some of the ground." Draco took another bite, chewed, and followed with a sip of his sparkling lemonade. _Tell them about Lockhart's healing, Draco_, came Daphne's voice, _They'll think that's funny._ Draco obliged, glad he could make his father laugh so hard, but at the same time, recalling the icy trickle of fear when he looked at Harry on the ground, arm limp and useless.

The conversation continued around Quidditch until it was clear Narcissa was bored out of her mind. Draco hastily shifted the conversation to the upcoming year.

"Mum? Why do I have to take Divination, again? I'd so rather take Arithmancy!" Draco pouted, thoroughly annoyed that the Black fixation with stars and constellations extended to useless topics like "where mars was in your sector" and other rubbish. Draco's mother had insisted, while his father had been passive, so Draco enrolled in divination, but under protest. Narcissa ignored Draco's question, giving him another heaping mound of corn soufflé. Draco knew better than to press the topic, quickly changing tact.

"So. I, erm, I'm excited about Care of Magical Creatures?" Draco tried again to talk school to his mother "Yeah, I'm excited. I've always been so interested in the care of grizzlepups. I still don't understand why you never let me have one. They're so cute and fluffy and cuddly and dangerous to my enemies!" Lucius smiled indulgently at his 12-year-old son. "Draco, you KNOW that grizzlepups are only loyal to one person, and thus, dangerous to everyone else. Would you like it if your mother were bitten by your grizzlepup because you were so adamant about getting one?" Draco shook his head. "I thought not."

The rest of the dinner continued in a sort of peaceful silence, as by this point, Draco was really too sleepy to say much else.

Dear Uncle Sev,

I'm home, and well, thanks. I just got your note, and I'm truly glad to hear that Dumbledore might consider you for the DADA position if no other candidate qualifies. I would miss you as a Potions teacher, of course, but I know you'd still be willing to tutor me (if I ask nicely). I really hope Dumbledore doesn't find anyone else, because I know you can teach us a lot about defensive spell work, and from what my father's been hinting, defensive spell work might be a very handy skill within the next few years.

I've not given much thought to visiting you over the break. I'd be happy to see you, but to be honest, I spend enough time in that drafty castle as it is, without spending part of my summer there. Perhaps we could travel instead? I know this is rather presumptuous, but I know Daphne is in the part of Germany where the Granafelter flower blooms, and I thought maybe we could visit? I don't know. Just a suggestion.

I'm also hoping you'd be willing to clear up the rumors surrounding the Chamber of Secrets thing. Did Potter really defeat Slytherin's basilisk? Was it really Tom Riddle? Was the Weasley girl possessed by that diary? Was it Riddle's diary? What's the ministry going to do about it? What's Dumbledore going to do? Is Hogwarts really free from the terror surrounding the Chamber of Secrets, or is this just like 50 years ago when everyone THOUGHT we were safe?

All my love,

Draco

Dear Draco,

1-That's Uncle SEVERUS to you

2-Way too many questions.

Love,

Uncle Severus

Draco frowned, annoyed by his godfather's enigmatic response. Why did he need to be so difficult? The questions weren't hard! Thinking about the Weasley girl, Draco realized that the book he'd seen her scribbling furiously in was in fact, the book with a fang through it his father had described (Lucius hadn't known Draco was eavesdropping when he detailed the story to Nott). Draco further realized that that book was the same book he'd seen in Flourish and Blotts all those months ago. With an increasing sense of dread, Draco thought back to that day. The only person who could have put such an evil book into the Weasley's cauldron was—his father.

Ignoring the moral implications (is it wrong to get even with the Weasley family for their past transgressions?) Draco began to contemplate. Was it really just the Weasley girl that was the target? Or would any young innocent witch work? What if it had been Susannah? Draco realized he felt GUILTY on his father's behalf, because—what a horrible thing to do! His father had basically condemned the girl to her death. Forget the fact that she was a Weasley! No one should die from being possessed by Voldemort!

_I see your moral compass is becoming more and more accurate._ Daphne observed quietly. _I know you love your family—I do too, don't get me wrong, but sometimes you have to recognize that the good can come with a whole lot of bad. Just saying. I know that's touchy feely of me, but I don't care. There you have it._

_ Daph, I appreciate it, but I'm going to do that whole "examine my life thing tomorrow…I just don't have the energy tonight,_ Draco replied, wearily

"Dobby? Will you fetch me my pajamas?" Draco waited. "Dobby?" He waited some more. "Merlin Curse it, Dobby! What's taking you so long?" Draco began to search for his pajamas himself, muttering about 'unreliable help these days.' Just as he went to dress, a little elf appeared at his side.

"Master Draco? I's Dolly. Dobby not be working for you no more, because Harry Potter gave him clothes." Dolly shuddered with revulsion as she uttered the word 'clothes' and Draco grinned fondly. House Elves were so eccentric! "Can Dolly get you anything before you go to sleep?" The elf curtsied, her nose touching the ground. When Draco said nothing, she disapparated. Finally, Draco realized the implications of Dobby's freedom. With Harry in such close proximity to the elf, and with Dobby's lack of obligation to the Malfoy family, who knew WHAT the elf was telling Harry about Draco.

"Merlin's hairy knuckle joints!" Draco moaned.


	17. Chapter 17

Hooray! Longer Chapter!

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The morning dawned bright and clear, so Draco spent the morning outdoors flying random paths around the manor grounds. He ignored the rings his father had enchanted, preferring for once to focus only on the thrill of flying. He did not enjoy Quidditch at Hogwarts as much as he let on to his parents, mainly because of Flint's obnoxious attitude. Although Draco felt he had a friend in Adrian Pucey, that friendship wasn't enough to completely erase the dislike emanating from the team captain. All in all, practices were not as enjoyable as Draco had thought, and the Quidditch matches were more manifestations of house rivalry than real sporting events.

His head cleared from the brisk winds of flight, Draco cleaned and stored his broomstick. He knew a house elf would probably give the broom another cleaning, but nothing soothed Draco like focusing his mind on one small task at a time, like clipping bent twigs, or re-varnishing scuffs on his broom.

As he made his way back to the Manor, Draco realized that there was something to be said for doing things by hand, rather than by magic. His mother, for example, would never allow house elves to de-gnome her rose gardens—that was her special garden, and she could often be seen with her long blonde hair tied back, scrambling after a gnome or tugging at weeds. Draco's father even stooped to menial labor when it came to training the winged horses he bred and raced. Draco remembered being shocked one morning to see his father actually carrying the heavy pail filled with the magical grain the horses consumed.

_Why do we make fun of muggles for doing everything by hand?_ Draco mused, unaware he was projecting to Daphne, _I know I certainly enjoy the routine of cleaning the brooms in the broom shed. Why does it matter that a muggle wouldn't be able to weed a garden with a wand when my own mother doesn't mind getting down in the dirt to garden? _Miles away, Daphne smiled, but did not reply.

* * *

Draco cursed. He was attempting to make himself a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich WITHOUT using the magic "FryPerfect pan ™" or the "AutoSlice knife ™" but all he was managing to do was burn the bacon and the bread, and mutilate the lettuce and tomato. How did the muggles do it? Draco finally gave in and pulled out the magical cooking devices. The only reason they even had non-magical utensils was for Narcissa, who insisted that a perfect lemon curd could only be cooked without magic, and that the magical knives were too brutish to julienne properly.

After lunch, Draco searched out his mother. She was in "her" sitting room, sipping a cup of tea absently as she made notations in the margins of a scholarly article on the uses of bicorn powder. Narcissa was much smarter than she let on to most people, preferring to play the vapid trophy wife if only because it was the role expected of her. She held up a finger, signaling Draco to wait while she underlined a phrase from the article, and scribbled something next to it. She closed the journal and looked up expectantly.

"I was wondering if I could go to London for the afternoon. I just want to get out of the house for a bit." Draco shifted from one foot to another as he awaited her reply. Narcissa frowned at him.

"You think I would allow my twelve year old son to go to Diagon Alley alone?" She raised an eyebrow, "So you didn't think, you just hoped. Well, I'm afraid not." Draco sagged. "No, dearest," Narcissa went on, "it simply isn't safe. I'd much rather you bring Nobby with you. She'll keep watch without getting too intrusive."

Draco was relieved. He knew his mother would never allow him to wander un-chaperoned, but he was afraid she would insist on a human to accompany him, and all Draco really wanted was the chance to wander aimlessly, something he realized few grown-ups enjoyed.

* * *

Hours later, even the subservient Nobby seemed annoyed with Draco. The pair had wandered throughout Muggle London, often pausing as Draco stared vacantly at some thing or another in thought. It was in a park, watching Muggle children play as their parents casually watched from the shady benches that Draco's thoughts turned from simple "I say, look at that woman! She's covered in metal things sticking into her face…I wonder if she ran into a 'company member?'" to the deeper thinking he had set out to do.

It was obvious, Draco thought, staring at children at a muggle playground. How had Draco never given any thought to the positions his father held? Draco did not like to think of his loving father as a "bad guy," but he realized that was how most of the wizarding world saw him. Draco did not like to think about the negative connotations that went with being a Malfoy. To Draco, his parents should have thought more carefully before dragging the Malfoy name through the mud, as they had by associating with a wizard Draco now saw as twisted at best, and absolutely deranged at worst.

What would he say to his father when he turned fifteen? The thought stole into his head, unbidden, that for his family's safety, they must either all renounce Voldemort, or his parents would have to publicly disown him the minute he expressed light leaning tendencies. _Who will even believe I'm capable of being decent? _Draco suddenly panicked. _What if I go through all the heartache of publicly splitting from my parents, only to find that the people who count all still think I'm a bad guy in training?_ Such thoughts did not sit well with Draco, because he did not know how to get around the problem. On the one hand, he couldn't act decent until his parents renounced him because he couldn't put them in danger, but on the other hand, what good would renouncing him do if Draco's split with darkness only threw him to the Weasley wolves?

Draco could only imagine the field day the Weasley clan would have with a defenseless Draco. He would be at their mercy, and they would exploit every minute of it. They would probably be decent to him in front of Harry Potter, but the minute no one else was around…Draco knew he would have to avoid that situation as much as possible. The last thing he would need is a pack of Weasleys trying to manipulate his life.

Draco was staring off into the distance, so caught up in self pity that he almost didn't see the flash of bright blonde hair. With a start, he realized he was seeing Susanna Miller. He hadn't spoken to her since the incident on the Quidditch pitch. Well, more accurately, Susanna hadn't spoken to him since the incident. Draco hopped off the bench, ignoring Nobby's mutter of "finally!" and ran toward the girl. He faltered for a second when he saw she was with two adults, clearly her parents. Her mother was a willowy brunette and had the same friendly smile as her daughter, while her dad, a short plump man who was dwarfed by wife and daughter, definitely shared Susanna's quirky eyebrows. Draco decided to introduce himself, even though they were muggles. After all, the "old crowd" wouldn't come near this part of town if they were paid to do so. Susanna saw Draco before her parents, and looked about for a way to avoid him. Seeing no way out, she sighed, and tried to avoid looking at him.

"Hello Susanna! How's your summer?" Draco didn't wait for a reply but turned to her parents "And you must be her parents. I'm Draco Malfoy, and I go to school with Susanna. Have you gotten used to the owls yet?" Mrs. Miller smiled.

"It took awhile to get used to it. Our neighbors get suspicious, actually. They talked of calling animal control, because the owls in our neighborhood are so 'peculiar.' Their word, not mine." Draco thought for a second.

"Have you considered purchasing an owl? You can specify a special breed of owl that has "notice me not" feathers. Basically, you'd see the owl, and so would any magical person, but your neighbors wouldn't notice a thing." Mr. Miller looked deep in thought. Susanna was still avoiding Draco's eyes.

"Draco Malfoy, eh?" Mr. Miller had a deep voice, which was unusual for such a short man. "I remember reading about you in Susanna's letters. She mentioned you quite a few times in the earlier months at school, but stopped talking about you entirely. Did you fall out of touch at school?" Clearly Mr. Miller was shrewder than his appearance let on. Draco swallowed before replying, choosing his words carefully.

"Actually, sir, Susanna fell out of touch with me. I was unpardonably rude to a friend of hers early on last year, and I haven't been able to talk to her to apologize. That's why I came over to talk to you now." Draco noticed Susanna was looking at him out of the corner of her eye as she pretended to look at the trees in the park. He took this as a good sign, and decided to press his luck. "Mr. and Mrs. Miller, I was wondering if I could buy Susanna an ice cream in Diagon Alley to apologize, and perhaps to explain my behavior. You would be welcome to come along as well, of course." He paused, waiting for a reply. Susanna's mother was the first to speak.

"I suppose we've done all our non-magic shopping for the day, and we were planning to pop over to the Alley to buy some school supplies for Susy. She's running out of parchment from working on that essay for that teacher Snape. Doesn't he understand that the summer's meant to be a time for relaxation?" Mrs. Miller pursed her lips good naturedly, the crinkle around her eyes belying the complaining words. "Or so Susanna says. I personally think it's good the man takes his teaching so seriously." Susanna abandoned all pretence of ignoring Draco, facing him straight on for the first time the whole conversation.

"I guess getting some ice cream wouldn't hurt anything. Will your house elf come, too?" Draco's eyes widened slightly, impressed Susanna could see through Nobby's glamour.

"Yes, she'll come too. She's my chaperone on this trip." He held his arm out to Susanna with an exaggerated flourish. "Shall we?" Susanna gave a small giggle, taking his arm. The two made meaningless small talk as they walked with the Miller adults to Diagon Alley. Susanna pulled her wand to tap the brick behind the Leaky Cauldron, and Draco steered her to Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor. Susanna's parents took their leave with the promise to be back in an hour to collect their daughter.

"I've never been here before," Susanna was preoccupied with the decorations in the ice cream parlor. Draco, who was better used to the zany knick knacks and posters was able to examine the flavors on display in a magically cooled case.

"Excellent, Nobby, they have Butterscotch. Do you want your usual?" Draco smiled as the small elf blushed and nodded vigorously. One thing that greatly endeared the elf to Draco was her love of sweets, and he always made a point of getting her ice cream when he visited Fortescue's. Draco stepped up to the counter.

"One extra large Butterscotch Willow Whomper, a double honey peach scoop with a butter cookie, and…" Draco trailed off, turning to Susanna. "Whatever she's having." Susanna frowned.

"My parents gave me money!" She hissed at Draco, who simply smiled and motioned to the man waiting for her order. Susanna growled, but didn't argue further. "One scoop of mint chocolate chip with chocolate snitch sprinkles, please." Draco paid, and carried the purchases to two adjacent booths. He got Nobby situated with her ice cream at one booth, fussing over the elf, tucking a napkin into her tunic and pouring her a glass of water until the elf finally shooed him away with an "I's trying to eats this!"

"You know," said Susanna, having watched the production "That's not really how I pictured a house elf to act. I mean, she's not subservient at all." Susanna suddenly looked worried, "Oh, will she be offended if she hears me talk like that?" Draco smiled, glad Susanna was such a thoughtful girl that she worried about hurting an elf's feelings.

"Actually, Fortescue's tables all have anti-eavesdropper spells on the booths, so you don't have to worry about being overheard. That's actually part of why I chose this place to talk to you." Draco took a large bite of his ice cream, closing his eyes as the creamy treat melted on his tongue before continuing. "I mean, I have a lot to talk to you about, and I also wanted to apologize to you," He noticed Susanna's eyes went hard as she remembered the incident for which Draco was apologizing, but plowed on.

"I'll get the obvious out of the way. I'm so incredibly sorry to call anyone that terrible name. I was not in a good place at the time, and I was incredibly mad at Hermione Granger, but that's no excuse for how I acted. I've given a lot of thought to how I've been raised, and I realize now that I've been given a biased view of how muggles live and act, and I've realized that there is nothing shameful about being the first witch or wizard in your family. I also have decided that should That Guy (the really bad one) ever return fully, I won't even consider following him. I cannot support a man who would try to hurt my friends, and I count you as one of my friends, even if you no longer want to count me among your friends. And, well, yeah. That's it." Draco trailed off lamely, trying to hid his less-than-graceful statement by taking a big bite of ice cream, but choked. Spluttering, Draco took a gulp of water. Eyes watering, he looked at Susanna. "Well?" he asked.

"Well," Susanna replied "I think that's all good. And I still count you as a friend. I was really mad at you. But that's in the past, and I won't bring it up again if you are serious about moving over to the light side." She smiled, but Draco frowned. Would she really forgive him that easily?

"That's it? I'm forgiven?" Draco couldn't believe his good luck. A Slytherin would have expected at least two 'I'm sorry' gifts to make up for his behavior. Susanna grinned at him, her nose wrinkling.

"That's it. I'm not really one to hold a grudge when someone has apologized for acting badly. I mean, if you don't WANT to be forgiven—" Draco interrupted immediately.

"No, forgiveness is good."

* * *

Dear Draco,

I received yet another letter from you. I'm starting to think you miss me, if the twelve letters in four days is any indication. No, I still won't tell you what happened in the Chamber. No, I don't want to hear _yet again_ about how good Potter is at Quidditch. And, yes, I will take you to visit your friend Miss Greengrass. Her father is actually a friend of mine. I will pick you up Tuesday next. Be prepared to leave at precisely 10 am. I don't plan to wait around while you pack your entire manor into a suitcase.

Love,

Uncle Severus

* * *

Okay. That's a chapter, folks. Review please, so I have inspiration to get the next chapter out quickly. In your review, let me know what you think of the story, and if you would be too incredibly offended if I had the vacationers visit America, rather than somewhere in Europe. I wanted to write about a place I've actually visited, rather than a place I'd have only read about. Keep in mind if I actually have to research European vacation spots, the next chapter could take a bit longer in writing.

C


	18. Chapter 18

First off, I would like to reply to one of my reviewers who said that this story is "obviously" not from JKR's perspective. My only defense is that whenever I reference something from the books, I strictly limit myself to the dialogue used in the books. So, it's the other side of what JKR's writing. She sees the story from Harry's perspective, we're seeing the same story, but from Draco's side.

Chapter 18

Draco had spent the morning frantically packing with every little thing he thought he might need to visit Germany. He had started with the essentials—a wizard chess set, sugar quills, a few wizarding fiction books, a stationary set, his practice snitch and broom, his potions text (as it wouldn't hurt to suck up to his godfather a little), a large supply of Honeydukes chocolate, a mirror, brush, hair gel, magical camera…

…only to have his godfather wave a wand, and replace his giant trunk with a small bag no larger than a golden retriever. "I believe," drawled Severus, "My selections are rather more practical for travel. After all, I did tell you to pack only what you needed, not the entire manor. I assure you that should you have dire need of any of those more, ah, frivolous items, we can visit a shop in Germany." Snape sniffed, "after all, they DO have mirrors and sweets in Germany."

Draco pouted. Why had his godfather let him go to all the trouble of packing if Severus was just going to re-do his work anyways? Lucius saw the look, and cleared his throat.

"Draco…remember the code! Just because you won't be with your parents is no reason to neglect your manners." Lucius' look softened "I will miss you. Who will I have to best at wizard's chess?"

Narcissa smirked. Lucius had long since refused to play her, claiming it was unseemly for a Malfoy man to lose every single game to an opponent. Narcissa was a brilliant tactician, another trait she rarely let on to the casual onlooker. Severus smiled thinly. He, too, had suffered the delusion that playing the beautiful blonde woman at chess would be a simple victory for him. Narcissa's first game with Severus, at the Black household, was now infamous, for both were great strategists, and the hard fought game had attracted a large crowd of Blacks, how all jeered at Severus when he finally tipped his King.

Draco bid both of his parents goodbye, before stepping into the Floo with his godfather, calling "Greengrass Camp, Germany!" before whirling away in the green flames. Upon arriving, Draco took stock of the accommodations. The tent in which the Greengrasses were staying was, to put it politely, miniscule. Draco was appalled to realize the tent had only 10 rooms (3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, kitchen, dining room, study, and parlor, each leading off the main "entryway" which contained the floo). Sure, he hadn't been expecting a three story tent like the one his parents owned, but he'd expected at least a two story-er. How he was expected to survive _sharing a room_ with Severus for the summer Draco was not sure. All he really knew was that he had three seconds before—

"Oomph!" Draco was knocked backward by an armful of Daphne, who had barely given him a chance to look around before pouncing. She had grown since he last saw her, coming close to his height of five foot four inches. The growth had burned off all her "baby fat," and clearly she had not been shopping in a long time. Draco noted the inches of ankle revealed by too short pants, and the way her shirt hung off her thinner frame. Daphne noticed his smirk and laughed.

"He keeps saying he'll take me shopping," she said, nodding in the direction of the study, where Draco presumed her father must be working, "but I keep saying I'll stick to regular wizarding fashions, not these new German trends. I mean, honestly. I'm going to be a third year. I can't have something that makes me different from all the other girls. I'll be laughed at!" Draco nodded seriously.

"Too right. As it is, you are completely like every other girl I've ever met." Daphne scowled at Draco's sarcasm. Severus cleared his throat, and Daphne started, having forgotten his presence.

"Oh, right, sir." She seemed at a loss for words. "My father's in the study." Though Severus was Draco's godfather, Daphne had never had enough interaction with him to truly get over her view of him as a professor.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of conversation and good food. Draco and Daphne talked almost nonstop, and Draco noted with pleasure that Altair Greengrass seemed to be the only person alive capable of making his godfather laugh from sheer amusement, rather than the usual "at your expense" laughter. As the night wore on, Draco's yawns became so frequent that Daphne glared at him.

"Would you please stop doing that? Every time you yawn I ya-yawwwwwn" Her complaint was garbled by the giant yawn. Severus and Altair seemed to jump.

"Is it truly so late?" Severus checked his pocket watch and grimaced. "Off to bed for me. You too, Draco." They made their way to the guest room, where they proceeded to change into pajamas and climb into their respective beds. Draco tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable.

"Draco." Severus' words held a sharp warning. Draco tried to lie still, but couldn't help wiggling around a bit more. It has how he fell asleep at night, by wiggling and tossing until all his energy was out. "Draco!" Severus sounded weary. "As your godfather, I don't want to threaten you with draught of the living death, but as your roommate who is TRYING to get some sleep, I might have to." Draco stilled, grinning. He knew Severus would never actually slip him that draught, but Draco would try to keep quiet so Severus could fall asleep. Draco was so focused on being quiet, he didn't even notice when sleep claimed him.

* * *

"I swear, you've wasted half the day SLEEPING!" Draco grinned as Daphne's rant continued. He realized one advantage of rooming with his godfather: Daphne was too intimidated by Severus to use the evil light to wake him up. Therefore, Draco had slept in a few hours. He had found his way to the kitchen (and the shepherd's pie that was for lunch) and had been happily eating away when Daphne found him. Severus, it turned out, had gone with Altair to the German sub-Ministry that governed the preservation of German wizarding culture. The two weren't expected to return until long after bed-time.

Daphne and Draco weighed the options for their afternoon. Essentially, this involved Daphne making suggestions for things to do, and Draco shooting them down. Finally, in exasperation, Daphne threw a pillow at Draco and stomped off to her room. Chagrined, Draco realized he'd been insulting her choice of activities as boring, reinforcing the boredom she had been feeling before Draco arrived. Draco felt bad. He knew Daphne would never tell her father how bored she was, but she was miserable. Now that Draco had identified the emotion, he realized Daphne had been trying to hide it from him. Draco knocked on Daphne's door.

"Daph? I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to be so difficult." Draco opened the door without being invited. The room was rather small, but it was spotlessly clean, and the color scheme made the room habitable. Daphne's room was mostly white, with blue accents. Floor to ceiling windows showed a beautiful view of the deserted meadow they were camping in, far from Muggle Germany. Draco saw the neat stack of completed homework on Daphne's desk and felt another stab of pity. No one should have to do homework as _entertainment._ Daphne was laying on her bed staring out the window.

Without turning to look at him, she said dully "Figured it out, have you?" Draco knew she had been listening in telepathically when he figured out why she was upset by his behavior. He nodded.

"Daph, I bet we could get Severus to take us somewhere other than here for our vacation." Daphne sat up straighter, and looked genuinely interested. Draco decided then and there he would help his best friend to have a good summer if it killed him.

* * *

So that's the chapter. It is very short, but I didn't want to wind up with a beastly chapter that didn't fit with the story. So, I'm posting this now, then finishing up the rest of next chapter which I will post in a day or two.

Enjoy!

C


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